


Heroics, Heartache, Injuries, and Justice

by missblueeyes63



Category: SEAL Team (TV)
Genre: Angst, Brotherhood, Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Gen, Guilt, Hero Clay, Hurt/Comfort, Memory Loss, Mission Fic, Protective Older Brothers, Sonny’s Fear of Jungles, Stella Dumps Clay, Team as Family, Torture, Whump, Whump Clay, injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-16
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-29 10:38:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 32,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17806454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missblueeyes63/pseuds/missblueeyes63
Summary: An alternate version of what happens in Mexico after Stella breaks up with Clay. Stella dumping Clay right before he gets on the plane causes significant problems ... which may cost Clay his life.





	1. In the Hole

**Author's Note:**

> Crossposted on the FF site ... Alphabet Injuries letters H, I, and J

* * *

_**Outskirts of Hércules, Mexico – Near Graveyard** _

"Holy shit!" Clay jumped out of the Humvee and ran like hell away from the vehicle, diving over a half-wall of the old cemetery, curling into a protective ball after he scurried for cover behind a massive headstone. The resounding boom and flying debris came raining down on his position when the RPG hit its target and made mincemeat of their only remaining means of transportation out of this hellhole.

* * *

_**Dilapidated House** _

"Six, status!" Jason shouted as a ball of flame rolled out of the destroyed Humvee.  _Damn, I shouldn't have sent the kid._  "Bravo Six, do you copy?"

Heavy gunfire erupted again as the hostiles renewed their assault. Pinned down, outgunned, outnumbered, low on ammo, no ISR overhead, comms with Havoc down, no quick response force in place to come to save their asses, and forty miles from the planned exfil location, Bravo team was in a world of hurt.

Ten minutes ago, Jason hesitantly agreed to Spenser's suggestion to make a hasty dash for the only vehicle which survived the initial onslaught, while the rest of them laid down cover fire as a diversion. The kid made it and started to drive towards them, but now, with the last one blown up, his team's options for exfil … and survival were limited.

Jason peeked out the side of a window, hoping to glimpse Clay, unsure if the kid received Ray's warning about the RPG and was able to exit before it exploded. "Six, respond," Jason demanded, his voice rising along with his fear the brave kid died.

"Come on, Kid, answer Boss," Sonny muttered from his position on the second story window, also searching for any sign of life. He hated handsome boy's idea, but no one came up with a better one, and the kid was the fastest runner of the team, possessing supersonic speed like Sonic the Hedgehog.

"I see movement …" Ray adjusted his scope as he lay flat on the tile roof, "the cemetery. He's alive, but he is now cut off from us."

"Damn!" Jason hammered the plaster wall with his fist, causing dust from the defunct house to billow around him.

"Any visible injuries?" Trent asked as his gaze met Brock's, both hacked off at their situation and the fact Spenser would now be on his own. The odds of him surviving dropped considerably given the number of hostiles they were facing.

"Unable to tell. He's hunkered down on hallowed ground. The explosion might've covered his escape. Don't think Herrera's men have seen him." Ray sent up a silent prayer to Heaven that remained the case. The thought of Clay being taken hostage turned his stomach. The drug cartel would torture the kid just for the fun of it because they had been making inroads into locating Doza.

* * *

_**Graveyard** _

His chest heaving, attempting to slow the thudding of his heartbeat and heavy breathing, Clay shifted in his hiding place as the last of the metal hail fell around him.  _Too damned close. Damned glad Ray gave me a heads up. Shit! What are we going to do now?_

Glancing around the mining town's burial ground, Clay had little cover and would be located in short order if he couldn't figure out someplace better to hide. His eyes stopped on a stone grave marker for Hector del Pozo. He translated the saying below the name.  _I made some good decisions and some bad ones … I really went in the hole with this one._

Clay's face morphed into a wry smile as he chuckled. "I'm right there with you, Hector. But at least I'm not in the hole yet. And if I can help it, I'll avoid it for many a year."

He keyed his headset, hoping Bravo could hear him even though he could no longer hear them … something he recognized because Jason would've been demanding status from him by now and all he heard was static on his end. "Bravo One, Bravo Six here. Still in possession of all my parts. Not receiving you … hope you have good copy. Gonna find a way back to you if I can."

Moving to his knees, Clay felt a stab of pain in his right hip. His eyes darted down and found a thin metal shard poking out of his pants. "Well, shit." He prodded the area and didn't think the metal penetrated too deep. He yanked it out and pressed a hand to his hip to staunch the bleeding.

* * *

_**Dilapidated House** _

"We can't leave him hanging out there alone," Sonny huffed as he wiped the dripping sweat from his forehead. Wearing full tactical gear in ninety-five-degree weather was a bitch.

"If we go out there, our asses are toast before we get even halfway to him," Ray spoke the hard truth. As much as he wanted to rescue Spenser, them all ending up dead in an attempt would be fruitless.

"Bravo Six, do you copy?" Jason paced, hating the fact he had no options. "Bravo One to Havoc base," he tried again. If they could reach Blackburn and get some support, there might be a chance of getting out of this alive. In the back of his mind, the faces of Emma and Mikey played on a loop … he must find a way out of this, or his kids would be orphans.

Jason blew out a breath. "Options … anyone got any ideas?" The silence meeting his request further hollowed Jason's heart.

"I say we go out in a hail of glory and take out as many of those sons of bitches on our way out," Sonny stated.

Brock shook his head. There's gotta a be a way. Something we haven't thought of yet."

"Hey, hey … the kid is moving. What the hell?" Ray couldn't believe his eyes.

* * *

_**Graveyard** _

As Herrera and his men stopped their vehicles near the cemetery, Clay's mind came up with a possible solution to save his brothers when a truck halted over a huge pothole.  _Stella is right … this is an eventuality … but at least I can protect my team and give them a fighting chance to get out of this alive. Jason's and Ray's kids need their fathers … no one needs me._

When their HVT, Herrera, exited the truck, gloating over killing the half-witted marine who tried to drive the Humvee, Clay took offense at being called a half-wit. His original plan, though half-crazy was the only option they possessed and would've worked if they hadn't had an RPG. But on a positive note, Herrera believed him dead and therefore wouldn't be expecting a rear assault.

When Herrera began ordering his men to move forward to take out the rest of the Mexican marines who dare to attempt to capture him, Clay ignored the pain in his hip, kept low behind headstones, and maneuvered himself to the rear of Herrera's vehicle. Reaching the hedge near the end of the wall close to his desired location, Clay checked his last mag.  _Almost out. Every shot must count._

Dropping to his belly, Clay slithered under Herrera's truck and crawled to the front, lowering himself in the hole which would afford him a little protection. He almost laughed as Hector's headstone came to mind.  _I really went in the hole with this one. Hope this is a good decision._

Clay sighted one of the hostiles and planned his order, leaving Herrera for last, hoping Bravo would be able to grab him alive and get the intel needed to bring Doza's organization down. Clay figured he could take out half before they zeroed in on his position and maybe a few more before a hailstorm of bullets came his way. That would draw their attention away from the house his teammates were in, and they would be able to handle the remainder.

He drew a deep breath, then caressed the trigger between heartbeats.  _One down._  Herrera's henchmen started dropping like flies as Clay targeted one after another, shooting as fast as possible. The men appeared confused at first when their cohorts crumpled to the ground like puppets with their strings cut. He dispatched sixteen to hell before they figured out where the shots were coming from.

As predicted, bullets riddled his location. Clay dropped his head, hoping his helmet and the depression in the dirt road would protect him … he couldn't move from his place, or he would end up so full of holes he would become a human strainer. Hot anti-freeze and water poured down on him as the radiator was hit with a barrage of rounds.

Over the next few minutes, gunfire reduced in intensity, then stopped altogether. Clay remained still, wondering if it was a ploy to get him to lift himself and give them a target.  _Not in this lifetime … I might be headstrong, but I'm not foolish and I don't have a death wish._  Boots crunching on the gravel alerted Clay to several people approaching. He swallowed hard not relishing the idea of becoming a hostage, but at least his brothers now had half a chance to survive.

As his team maintained watch, Jason took a knee at the front of the truck Ray said the kid crawled under. His heart in his throat, fearing the worst when the kid didn't move … believing no one could survive the hellacious firestorm unleashed in his direction, Jason said, "Clay. Clay."

At the sound of Hayes' voice so close, Clay almost thought he was hallucinating. Raising his head, Clay's gaze met Jason's and detected relief.

"You get the rest?" Clay asked at the same time Jason asked, "Are you hurt?" Jason said, "Yes," as Clay said, "No harm."

Clay wiggled out from underneath and spotted Brock putting a black hood over their HVT's head after Sonny zip-tied the head honcho's hands behind his back.

"Damned gutsy move," Ray said as he looked over the kid.

"What the hell possessed you to do something so half-cocked? You could've been killed. Surprised you're not littered with holes," Jason barked, both pissed off and astonished by Clay's selfless and heroic action to aid them.

Pulling himself up holding onto the bumper, then putting most his weight on his left leg, his right hip aching something fierce now, Clay met Jason head-on. "Hector gave me the idea. Any of you would've done the same."

"Who the hell is Hector?" Sonny asked.

"A guy in the graveyard." Clay unlatched his helmet, took it off, and wiped the sweat and dust … which turned into mud … from his forehead with his sleeve.

Trent stepped forward, his eyes scanning the kid, not missing the blood on Clay's pants and the way he held himself on one leg, but his main worry was a concussion. "Clay, there isn't anyone else in the cemetery … at least alive."

"Teflon boy is seeing ghosts in a haunted boneyard," Sonny quipped, surprised the kid was alive after his hairbrained stunt.

Clay chuckled. "Not quite." He told him about the words on the headstone as he settled the helmet back in place. "Can we get out here now?"

Brock hopped into the cab of one of the trucks and turned the ignition. "This one isn't shot to hell. Should get us outta here."

Clay took a step and winced. Trent was at his side in seconds flat. "No harm my ass. What's wrong with the leg?"

"Only a little piece of shrapnel. Nothing big," Clay responded.

"I'll be the judge of that. Put him in the bed, and I'll check him out as we drive," Trent instructed.

Clay attempted to move on his own, but Jason and Sonny both stepped on either side of him and grabbed his arms, swinging them over their shoulders and lifting him off the ground. "Christ, I can walk. Put me down."

"Humor us, Kid." Jason started moving.

None of Bravo spotted the man hiding in the nearby house observing the whole scene and taking photos with his phone. He slunk back into the recesses, dialed, and whispered rapid-fire Spanish. Hanging up a sneer came to his face as he texted the pictures. Doza would reward him well for this information.


	2. A Be-u-te-ful Sight

_**Truck Heading to Exfil Location** _

Trent cut an opening in Clay's uniform, examined the wound, and grinned up at Jason. "Yeah, minor. Teflon boy is an apt name. Just need to clean it out and bandage it for now … I'll stitch it once we're not bouncing all over hell and creation and we aren't eating dust."

Jason peered at Clay. "One helluva move. Saved our asses." He handed a water bottle over to him. "We owe you a case of beer."

"Thinking this warrants a bottle of Tequila," Clay cockily responded as he lay on his side on the truck's bed. His position a tad uncomfortable with all the bumps in the road, but Clay grinned and accepted the water. The warm liquid welcome to his parched throat. The excessive heat of the desert caused him to sweat a lot, and he needed to replenish. Once Trent finished applying a dressing, Clay rolled to his butt and scooted his back against the side.

"Whatever you want, Bam Bam … I'm buying the first round," Sonny said as he stood in the bed, peering over the cab, his gun at the ready should they encounter any more of Herrera's men on this dusty road in the middle of nowhere. Their infil via helicopter forty miles from the mining town was determined to keep their approach under wraps and would be where they would exfil too.

They rode in silence for quite some time, before Jason took off his helmet and swiped a filthy hand across his forehead to stop the sweat from dripping into his eyes. The breeze afforded by being in the back of the truck helped cool him somewhat, though the air remained hot. He leaned forward to yell to Brock, "How far out are we?"

"About twenty miles," Brock hollered back, but his eyes landed on the gas gauge. "Fuck, don't think we're gonna make it all the way back … this was full, but now it's empty." His words were prophetic as the engine died and they rolled to a stop after some distance.

Ray hopped out of the cab, pulling their HVT with him, and peered at the vehicle's side. "Couple of holes here. Probably hit the tank. Guess we're hoofing it the rest of the way."

Clay didn't look forward to hiking, his hip hurt and he was hot, but he would suck it up like the entire team … they were all dealing with the searing heat of the noonday sun. He scooted to the edge after Trent lowered the tailgate for him.

"Too bad we can't round us up a few horses," Sonny said as he jumped to the ground and focused on Clay. "Hercules' Hero ain't gonna like hiking with that sore hip."

"Riding a horse wouldn't be any fun for him either … and he would be saddle sore to boot," Trent chimed in.

"I'm good." Clay put weight on his right leg to prove to them he was fine. He refused to be the weakest link again. "I'll take point."

Jason nodded but turned an eye on Sonny, sending a silent message to him to stick close to the kid. He received a slight incline of Quinn's head acknowledging the order before Sonny moved out behind Clay.

Pushed forward, Herrera complained, "Unmask me … I can't breathe under this hood."

"Rather you didn't breathe at all," Sonny muttered as he passed the HVT.

"You are American's … why are you dressed as Marina's?" Herrera asked as he stumbled along when someone gripped his arm and pulled him forward.

Ray held onto the Herrera but ignored him. They needed to keep him in the dark, although traipsing through the desert with him like this would be no fun for any of them.

"I need air," Herrera complained.

Jason halted Ray and pulled out the scissors from the front of his vest. "Hold him still." He cut a slit near the mouth.

"I can't see. Take this off now," Herrera protested.

"Shut up, or I'll be happy to hogtie your sorry ass and drag you through the fucking desert," Sonny threatened.

Jason grinned when Herrera became quiet. He started moving again, falling in behind Sonny and was followed by Ray with their target, Brock, and Trent bringing up the rear.

* * *

_**Hiking to Exfil** _

The summer sun beat down on the men, no one immune to the effects of the blistering heat. After two miles, Jason relented with Herrera and removed the hood as the man stumbled, realizing their success could turn into failure if the target died of heat stroke en route. Not an outcome he wanted after Clay's heroic efforts which turned the day around for them.

As Cerberus flagged, his paws sore from the scorching ground, Brock took a knee, bent over slightly, and whistled. His dog gave him soulful eyes of thanks as he happily hopped up on Brock's back and positioned himself over Brock's shoulder.

Herrera gaped at the move. "You carry the dog. Why?"

Arching a brow, Brock said, "He's not wearing boots."

"Stupid, he's only a dog." Herrera couldn't believe the man would take on the added burden of a mere animal.

Brock bristled at the comment, as did everyone, but Sonny, as usual, was the one to remark, "How about I remove your shoes and see how long you last before your feet are blistered and raw."

Herrera moved away from the angry man, half-believing he would follow through, which caused Clay to grin despite feeling like crap. His hip ached, his lips and throat were parched, and he had ceased sweating some time ago. His face was sunburned … he could feel the heat radiating off it and wished for a breeze, even a hot one to cool him down.

"Havoc, do you copy?" Jason tried the comms again to no avail. His men covered a little over half the distance to exfil and were facing another five miles because they decided to go off-road and take a more direct path to the exfil location. Part of Jason's reasoning was the fact they were out of water, and he recognized signs of dehydration in all of them.

Trent was the first one to exhibit symptoms of heat fatigue. Their medic stopped a few miles back as he experienced muscle spasms and cramping in his hamstrings. Jason insisted Trent drink the last of the water with the electrolyte mix … which Trent reluctantly did.

At the moment, Jason brought up the rear, keeping an eye on all of them as they hiked up the hillside. His headache throbbed with each step, and he suspected the others were experiencing one too based on them rubbing their temples occasionally. But each one trudged on … wanting to complete this horrible mission and get the hell out of this harsh and unrelenting habitat before any of them fell victim to hyperthermia.

Still taking the lead, refusing to show his fatigue, understanding they all felt crappy, Clay crested the hill. He blinked several times … trying to clear the hallucination presented to him. He laughed as the huge, brown horse remained. "Hey, Texas, think we might be able to round him up?" Clay called over his shoulder to Sonny.

Sonny joined Clay at the top. "Well, boy howdy, ain't he a be-u-te-ful sight. Here, cover me," Sonny slipped his assault rifle off and handed it to Clay before moving forward at a slow pace and whispering to the horse.

The rest of Bravo finished slogging up the hillside and halted, watching in awe as Sonny sweet-talked a stallion, attempting to gain its trust.

Jason shook his head. "The damned thing is wild. We can't ride it. Quit horsing around."

"Now hold your horses … give me a moment. I'll have you know I got a way with horses," Sonny shot back.

"Careful, they're not like the women at the strip clubs, you're gonna get kicked in the head," Ray snickered.

"And they don't respond to dollars tucked into their g-strings," Brock added as he let Cerb down while they rested a moment.

"You fail to grasp the obvious … I catch him, I can ride him to the helo, and we get outta here faster," Sonny replied, concentrating on moving closer.

Clay scanned the horizon for hostiles as Sonny continued his hijinks and the others hassled the Texan as they all took a short break in the shade. Clay took several steps, intending to stand in the shadow of a mesquite tree but lost his balance as a wave of dizziness hit him. Staggering a few paces as his vision blurred and heart rate increased, his world folded inward and he collapsed.

Catching movement in his periphery, Jason started running as the kid went down. Trent followed as did Brock. Ray maintained watch on their HVT as he called out, "Forget the damned horse, Six is down."

Sonny whipped around and rushed towards the group kneeling around Clay ripping off the kid's helmet and gear.

"I shouldn't have finished the water. The kid needed it more," Trent groused as he helped Jason remove the tactical vest while Brock moved to cradle the kid's head on his thighs.

"He's not sweating," Brock said. "His hair is dry … should be dripping buckets like us."

Trent touched the hot, dry, red, skin. The heat radiating off Clay was significant. He pulled out his thermometer and stuck it in Clay's ear. Though not standard equipment, Trent always carried extra gear in his kit given the propensity of the kid ending up hurt or ill. "Hyperthermia … more than heat exhaustion … one-o-four point six … we're looking at full-blown heat stroke. I gotta cool him down fast."

He dug in his bag and tossed cold packs to Brock, Jason, and Sonny, then started unbuckling Clay's belt. "Hold one on the back of his neck. Put the others in his armpits." Unbuttoning Clay's pants, Trent never hesitated as he yanked them down to the kid's knees, activated two of the packs, and placed them on Clay's groin.

After lifting Clay's shirt and shoving one in his pit, Jason peered at Trent. "How long?"

"You mean before organ failure or seizure?" Trent went back to his supplies searching for anything to use to cool the kid, wishing like hell he had saline, but his rucksack took several bullets, and the bags had been pierced while they took cover in the house back in Hercules. "Don't know."

"We need to fan him." Brock put Clay's head on his thighs again to hold the cold pack in place as he waved his hands in front of Clay's face … ineffective but all he could do.

Sonny stood after putting the last chill pack they had in Clay's other armpit. He strode to the nearest mesquite, broke off a branch, returned, and began fanning the kid. But as he did so, his eyes scanned for the horse. It grazed only a little way from them … fortunately, it hadn't spooked and run off.

What none of the other guys realized is the horse was not wild. The stallion was shoed and bore the marks of wearing a bit … the animal had a harsh owner … but Sonny was certain it had been ridden. "Boss, I'm going after that horse. The kid needs medical care we can't give him here." When Jason started to object, Sonny added, "It's been tamed, wearing horseshoes. I've ridden bareback before."

Jason nodded, rose, and put out his hand for the branch. "Okay, try. Don't get yourself killed being thrown or trampled."

"Copy." Sonny moved off to wrangle a horse … the kid needed them to save his ass this time, and he would do all in his power to do just that. After fashioning a simple hackamore and reins from the rope in his pack, using all his horse whispering skills, Sonny approached the beautiful beast.

"Okay, paw your hoof, but stay still, Brown Beauty. You and me … we're gonna be friends." Sonny continued to croon and managed to put on his makeshift headgear. Gaining hold of its mane, he swung himself up and grinned when the stallion held still.

"Okay, Beauty. I got a little brother to save and need you to run like the wind." His heels pressed the haunches, and the horse took off as Sonny yelled, "Yeehaw," and spurred the godsend into a gallop.

Jason laughed. "My God, he did it."

"We're gonna owe him a case of beer." Ray grinned.

"He gets to the helo and brings help in time for the kid, I'll buy him an entire pallet." Trent took Clay's temperature again, it hadn't decreased but thankfully had not increased. He prayed help came in time to save Spenser. It would suck to tell Stella that he failed to keep a brother alive because he drank the last of the water and let his kit get shot to hell.


	3. Young Jedi and Hopalong Cassidy

_**Hospital – Hallway** _

Blackburn strode down the hall to waiting area accompanied by Davis, Ellis, Colonel Martinez, and Lopez. Eric's haggard expression bespoke the tension which enveloped Havoc base ever since they lost contact with Bravo right as the shit hit the fan in Hércules. The hours of waiting, being denied the ability to send in a QRT to assist his men, and worrying if they all died took a toll on him.

Although he knew Spencer was in need of medical attention, the helo landed at the local hospital before taking Herrera to the Mexican Marine Compound, and he didn't know about the state of the other members of Bravo or the details of what occurred. Though in Eric's mind debrief took second place to the health and welfare of his best team.

"Jason," Eric called out as he spotted Hayes leaning against the wall. The master chief appeared flushed as did the rest of the men … sunburns all around, well, except for Ray … and Trent who was not present. Eric would hazard to guess the team's unofficial medic stayed with Clay.

Shifting his eyes from the door leading into the emergency treatment area to Blackburn, Jason took another sip of Gatorade. They all needed to rehydrate, so the doctors supplied them with bottles of water and Gatorade to replenish the lost fluids. Luckily the doctor assigned to Spenser spoke English, though, unluckily, everyone except Trent had been kicked out of the tiny room so they could treat Clay. The only reason Jason stood here now was that they allowed Trent to remain.

"How is our guy?" Eric asked once he had Hayes' attention.

"No word yet. We got his temp to drop a few degrees in the helo. He came around for a bit but was incoherent."

Eric nodded. "And everyone else?"

"We're good."

His gaze shifting to Sonny, a grin broke out on Eric's face. "Heard you arrived at exfil on horseback."

Before Sonny could answer, Martinez chuckled. "Soldier and cowboy."

Sonny tipped his hat, grinned but didn't elaborate on his wild ride on a horse with no name. The conversation shifted to more important matters, arrangements for safeguarding the kid while he was the hospital.

As Eric had approached Jason, Davis moved directly to Brock and handed him a backpack. "I brought what you requested."

"Thanks." He unzipped Cerb's bag, pulled out two collapsible dishes. He filled one with kibble from a baggie and the other with water from his bottle.

Noticing the gauze wrapping Cerberus' paws, Lisa asked, "How bad?"

Brock put the bowls in reach of Cerb, so his dog didn't need to move. "Pads are a little torn up. He should be fine with a day or two rest." Brock sat on the floor next to Cerb wishing he had picked up the pup sooner, but the heat had zapped him too, and carrying the hair missile taxed his body more. Brock took another drink and closed his eyes as he let down his guard now that Cerb had something to eat.

Lisa took stock of the men and turned to Lopez. "The guys are hungry. Where is the cantina so I can grab them sandwiches?"

"I'll escort you," Lopez offered.

As Lisa hurried away, Mandy sat next to Ray, who's head leaned back with his eyes shut. "You got the target. Good work."

Cracking his eyes open, Ray peered at Ellis. His words came out soft given the unsecured location, "Intel was shit again. We would all be dead if not for Clay's innovative solution. The small contingent of men supposedly with Herrera turned out to be at least fifty strong. I'm not so sure we can trust Alfaro and the marines. Honestly, this feels like we were set up."

Mandy pursed her lips. Not much she could say … the information they ran with on this op appeared to be vetted, but everything blew up in their faces, and they almost lost all the guys when they became the hunted instead of the hunters in Hércules. Something which didn't sit well with her. "I hear you, but—"

"But nothing." Ray cut her off. "Yeah, we understand this package is important, and Doza killed a DEA agent. We will take him down. Step up your game, Ellis … you worried about Jason, well, I'm worried you are behaving a bit too much like Carlson." Ray stood and walked away, his headache still pounding.

Mandy sucked in a breath, the words slapping her in the face. It wasn't like Ray to attack, he was the peacemaker of the team … but then again, the number two's job was to protect number one, so Jason could watch out for the rest of the team. So Ray coming at her like a hyena made some sense. Whatever transpired in Hércules must've rattled Hayes and the others.

She decided her time would be better served if she returned to the compound and interrogated Herrera, so she approached Blackburn and Martinez to inform them she was returning. Martinez agreed to take her back when Eric voiced his concern about her going by herself since they were outside the wire. Mandy noted Jason didn't bother to speak with her, relieved not to have the hassle of dealing with a hot-headed Hayes. And there was no question Jason seethed and held her responsible based on the heated glare he sent her way.

After Mandy strolled away, Eric said, "This isn't her fault."

Jason eyed Eric. "Her slipshod intel almost killed my boys."

"Just saying, she's doing the best she can in this hamster wheel. Cut her some slack."

Jason's brows rose. "We operate on zero margin for error. This has the earmarks of a coordinated hit. We were supposed to be dead by now. We live because members of my team went above and beyond today."

Eric sighed. "Here is not the place to debrief. That can wait until later. Martinez's men will be guarding Clay. You all need to head back to the compound and get some rest." As soon as the words left his mouth, Eric realized the absurdity of them … Jason, nor any of the others would leave Clay alone in the hospital.

"Not leaving," Jason declared.

"Right. When Davis comes back, give her your gear, and she can take it back for you."

"Yeah, sure. Keeping our sidearms though."

"Agreed."

Trent popped his head out of the door. "Temp is going down. I'm gonna stay with him, but the doc said one other person can come in the treatment room."

Jason didn't even bother to consult his men before striding to the door. He needed to be close and ensure the kid received proper healthcare.

* * *

_**Hospital – Clay's room** _

After an extended stay in the ER, the doctor managed to lower Clay's temperature to within normal limits and relocated him to a room for continued observation. The semi-private room in which Clay had been moved to initially contained another man, but when all of Bravo crowded in and refused to leave, the floor nurse transferred the other patient across the hall. Now divested of their tactical gear, Davis having confiscated their weapons, helmets, and vests, the men lined up along one wall, sitting on the floor, and keeping vigil on Clay.

The room contained one chair, which was surprisingly plush and comfortable, but without a single word spoken, the entire team agreed Cerberus earned the spot. It was Cerb who alerted them as they approached Herrera's hacienda and saved their bacon. They had been able to take cover as the hailstorm of bullets headed their way. Brock sat nearest, and his hand rested on his sleeping dog's hip, gently caressing his fur.

Jason glanced at Brock. "Cerberus is gonna be okay."

"Yeah, I know, but I should've carried him sooner." Brock's gaze remained fixed on Cerb's bandaged paws.

"If you had, you would be in a bed next to the kid," Jason stated in a matter of fact tone.

"You don't know that," Brock countered.

"I do," Trent chimed in. "We would've lost either you or Clay because I didn't have enough cold packs to go around. As it is, we barely got the kid cooled enough he didn't go into seizures."

"When is he expected to wake?" Ray asked.

Trent shrugged. "His body went through a lot of stress. Could be today, or tomorrow. At least his temp is down to normal now."

Sonny shifted trying to find a comfortable position and failed, his butt sore as hell from his bareback horse ride.

Jason caught Sonny's movement and couldn't help the grin that came to his face. "Saddlesore?"

"No," Sonny groused.

Ray chuckled. "Can't be … Buffalo Bill didn't have a saddle."

The guys all snickered as Sonny grimaced, but Jason rose and strode for the door.

"Where are you going?" Brock asked.

Jason didn't answer and stepped out of the room. He walked down the hallway in search of a specific item, peering into each room as he moved. Finding what he required in the last room, he returned to Clay's and tossed two pillows at Sonny. "Here, sit on these."

Sonny stared at the pillows as if they were horned vipers. "I'm not getting soft. Don't need them. I'm fine without them."

"You refusing to do as ordered?" Jason crossed his arms and stared down at Quinn. Not often he had to pull rank on Quinn, but in this case, he would.

Shifting, lifting his aching backside off the ground, Sonny shoved the plastic covered pieces of foam underneath him, and as he lowered his full weight on them, he couldn't halt the sigh that eked out, which caused another round of snickering.

Clay cracked his eyes open. He had woken when Jason spoke to Brock about Cerb and heard Trent's comments too, but he wasn't sure he wanted to wake up completely. His head still pounded, and he had become the weakest link yet again. But when the guys started chuckling Clay had to know what they were teasing Sonny about.

The vision of the hardened and hot-tempered Texan sitting on pillows was humorous to Clay and brought out a grin and a chuckle which wasn't missed by a single one of his teammates. Jason reached him first because he was standing as the rest of the guys hurried to rise from the ground.

"Hey. Welcome back." Jason stood near the head of the bed.

"Where are we and how'd we get here?" Clay recognized he was in a hospital, but the location he didn't know.

"A Mexico City hospital. Sonny caught the horse, rode it to the helo, and they landed where you collapsed from heat stroke. How are you feeling?"

"Been better." Clay noted they all appeared sunburned … no one went unscathed. He also spied Sonny moving slow with an odd walk as he came towards his bed. He turned when Cerb whined. "Brock, Cerb can lay at the foot of my bed, and Wild Bill Hickok can sit in the soft chair." He grinned at Sonny and received a scowl when he said, "I think Davis might still have the blow-up donut ring you gave me when I got shot in the ass with an arrow."

Relieved as Clay joked around, a good indication of no lasting damage from the high body temperature he experienced, the guys all relaxed and chortled. When the laughter died down, Clay asked. "When can I get out of here?"

"Tomorrow is the earliest." Trent pointed to the IV. "You need to fill up before you are released."

"Can't I do that in my hammock?"

"Sorry, no. Do you want Davis to bring your laptop so you can contact Stella?" Ray entered the conversation, hoping to make Clay's time here less humdrum.

"Don't bother … no need to hassle with it."

The response confused four out of the five guys standing around Clay, but Sonny understood. He didn't feel it his place to share the kid was heartbroken since Stella broke up with him. Sonny moved to the chair, and Brock put Cerb at the foot of Clay's bed. "I'll hang out here tonight with the hipster. The rest of you can go back to headquarters."

Jason witnessed a flicker of emotion he didn't fully understand cross Clay's face. He assumed it might be due to feeling vulnerable after the events in Hércules and appreciated Sonny's offer, but he wouldn't be leaving Spenser either.

About to open his mouth to tell the remainder of his men to go back, his phone rang. Answering it, he spoke briefly before hanging up and addressing the room. "Blackburn indicated Herrera is talking and we might be spun up again tonight. He's sending transport for us." He eyed Clay, not comfortable leaving him here alone, not trusting the Martinez's hand-picked marines on guard duty. "Trent, Clay's coming with us. Make sure he has what is required."

Clay grinned. "Hot-damn." He flung the covers off him and stopped as soon as he noted the hospital gown. "I need clothes."

Sonny stifled a groan. The chair would've been more comfortable than his hammock.

Ray lifted a bag and tossed it to Clay. "Davis has you covered."

"What would we do without her?" Clay pulled out his jeans and scooted to the edge to put them on. His hip twinged, but he ignored the pain, not wanting to give Jason any reason to make him stay.

Watching the eagerness of the kid, Jason shook his head. Spenser disliked hospitals which didn't surprise him because they all hated them. "When we get back to the compound you are confined to your hammock. You won't be going on the op."

As Sonny rose and shuffled toward the door, Jason didn't miss the continued slow movements. "Sonny, you're grounded too."

The fact Sonny only answered, "Copy," informed the whole team he must hurt pretty bad.

After a quick consult with the haughty doctor and a lecture about leaving against medical advice, the guys as a group, with Brock carrying Cerb, headed down the hallway to the exit.

* * *

_**Mexican Marine Headquarters** _

As Clay exited the vehicle, he bumped his hip on the door and took one wobbly step before a hand gripped his elbow. Without having to look, he knew it was Sonny … the hand familiar after the months Quinn had stabilized him after his eardrums had ruptured. He didn't say thanks with words, their gazes met and both comprehended the silent thanks, and you're welcome.

He and Sonny headed to their bunks with Brock who would leave Cerberus with them before joining the rest in the temporary TOC. As he hobbled down the hall, Clay spotted Davis. "Thanks for the clothes."

Lisa halted, surprise evident on her face. "What are you doing here. Last I heard you wouldn't be let out until tomorrow." She moved forward and gave him a quick hug. "Though I'm happy to see you up and around. You gave us a bit of a heart attack when Jason related what you did in Hércules." She grinned, glad Hayes chose Spenser for Bravo team … he fit perfectly.

Sonny leaned on the wall. "Young Jedi here could probably use something to eat. His stomach wouldn't shut up on the way here."

Clay chuckled. "Does that make you Hans Solo?"

Relief washed through Lisa watching the happy-go-lucky banter between her guys. Though roughed up, a little rest and a lot of fluids would restore them. "How about huevos rancheros?"

"Sounds good."

"Do you want to come to the cantina?" Lisa asked.

"Can't … confined to my hammock according to Jason." Clay didn't mind, he wanted to lay down, exhausted from his short walk, and his hip ached.

"I'll bring them to you then. Might even be able to round up sopaipilla's with honey."

"I'm a bit hungry, make that two orders." Sonny's mouth watered at the thought of the fried pastry smothered in honey. At Lisa's arched brow, Sonny added a hasty, "Please."

"You got it, Hopalong Cassidy," Lisa smirked as she turned to go grab the items for her boys.

Forty minutes later, his hunger sated, Clay lay in his hammock, swinging slightly and closed his eyes. Thoughts of Stella intruded. It still hurt … her words rang in his head.  _The more I love you, the harder this gets. You deserve someone who will embrace your life not resent it. Someone better than me. I love you, but I don't think I can be with you anymore._

His heart broke again and again.  _She loves me, but she can't live with my life. Why did she tell me in the beginning she knew what she signed up for when she didn't? How can she just walk away if she is in love with me?_  With no answers, Clay drifted into an uneasy sleep, his shattered heart dreaming of the woman he loved who couldn't accept his life.

Sonny stiffly rose from the table ten minutes after he spied Clay's eyes close. His position afforded him the perfect view through the tear in the blue plastic, and he believed the kid finally nodded off. As he made his way to his bed, Davis entered.

Lisa stopped outside Clay's room and a sad smile formed. She turned to Sonny and asked, "Can I bring you any pain relievers?"

"Nah, I'm good. Nothing a night's sleep won't fix."

"Where are his photos of Stella? He always has at least one up in his quarters.

Sonny shrugged. "Maybe he didn't bring them this time. We did get spun up on the spur of the moment."

Something in Sonny's tone made her recall the conversion she had with Clay when he handed her the camera after Doza's bagman was gunned down in the strip club. "Is something going on with Stella and Clay?"

Sonny didn't answer.

She recalled the night Sonny brought Clay back drunk as a skunk. His hangover the next day had been horrendous and Jason none too pleased with either Clay or Sonny for getting hammered outside the wire given that day's events. Lisa drew the connections and said, "Stella dumped him, didn't she?"

"Night, Davis," Sonny said neither confirming or denying for her.

"Why? When?" Lisa followed Sonny to his cube. "Hey, talk to me. Why would she do that to him?"

Sonny turned and gazed at Lisa realizing she would hound him for an answer. Too wiped out to resist, he said, "Our life is not an easy one. Not everyone can hack waiting at home wondering if we will return. Alana left Jason for that reason. So did Trent's wife. Takes a hardy woman like Ray's Naima to withstand the constant worry. I'm withholding judgment for now.

"He's hurting, but you never know what might happen. The professor might wake up and realize she will never find a more honorable man who loves her with his whole heart. I hope for his sake, she does."

Sonny kicked off his boots and then sat in his hammock. "Don't let on I said anything. None of the other guys are aware, and I don't plan on telling them. He deserves privacy while working through his heartache."

"I won't say anything. Thanks for talking to me though. Night." Lisa pivoted and strode out of the men's quarters. While Sonny might not judge Stella, Lisa did. Anger rose in her … targeted at the hairbrained woman who would let someone as special as Clay go, thoroughly hacked-off now she told Clay that Stella was a keeper.  _How dare she hurt one of my guys!_

Cerberus rose from his soft bed on the floor, gingerly padding on his sore paws to Clay's area. He sat and peered up at his boy sensing he needed comfort. In a well-honed and often practiced move, he leapt up, not disturbing the hammock too much. He found his favorite spot, laying his head on Clay's chest. His eyes shut when Clay's hand unconsciously moved to scratch behind his ears.


	4. A Hit Out on Clay

_**Five Days Later – Bar Outside the Wire** _

"Here's to the end of our beer hiatus!" Sonny grinned at Clay as he lifted his Corona and took a swig. For five, long days Trent refused to allow any of them to consume any alcohol after their stint of dehydration and heat exhaustion and Sonny had a hankering for beer which would be sated tonight.

Herrera's intel had netted one other Doza lead, but the man they brought in last night refused to spill the beans. With no additional targets and the night off, he and Clay went out to the local bar they went to previously. One reason, besides the need for a beer, was that he had orders from Jason to take the kid out and loosen his tongue. Their boss perceived Clay's hound dog expressions, but the kid clammed up, claiming to be fine and Jason wanted to understand if the events in Hercules messed with the kid's head.

Thankfully, Lisa kept her word to stay quiet, but she did go out of her way to ensure Clay got extra special care. The day after they returned, she brought Spenser whatever he wanted to eat, and set up his laptop so he could view a bunch of hilarious movies to pass the time he was confined to their hooch.

Once Trent gave Clay the all clear, the kid took to hanging out on the roof by himself which is what concerned Jason. Sonny didn't mind taking the kid on another bender, but he refused to reveal to Jason the real reason for Clay's quieter than normal mood. Though, he would take this opportunity to encourage Clay in the direction of coming clean with Jason before Hayes confronted him. Things would go much smoother.

"Huzzah!" Clay downed his shot of tequila and chased it with his ice-cold beer. He still couldn't get Stella off his brain, and if he didn't find a way to harden his heart, he would screw up his position on the team.

He realized the entire team noticed his demeanor change and he let Ray believe it was because he was now back to being Bravo Six. But that wasn't it and never would be. The team worked like a well-oiled machine with Hayes and Perry in the one and two spots. The op yesterday proved that to him. They brought in Castillo without a single hitch.

Clay decided to spend one last night drowning his sorrows and then tomorrow Stella would be in his past. He would move forward and never look back on what could've been … what he wished would've been. Tonight, he would drink himself under the table knowing Sonny would get him safely back to their hooch as he did the first time. Clay waved to the barkeep, "Two more tequilas."

The rate at which Clay drank as the night wore on concerned Sonny. But when the kid told him his plan … after consuming an astounding amount of tequila, Sonny decided the kid deserved to be numb for one night. Though he didn't believe for one second this would resolve the kid's heartache … all it would produce was a massive headache tomorrow. At least Hayes wouldn't ream Spenser for being drunk since he sent them out to do just that.

When the kid missed his mouth with the beer, Sonny determined Clay had enough and took the bottle from him. "Time for Goldilocks to be heading home. You've reached your limit, you're one hundred percent gonna puke up everything, and I don't want you hurling on me on the way back."

"Henpecking doesn't suit you," Clay slurred out.

"Well, now, son. If not me, then who?" Sonny stood and rounded the table. Clay didn't fight him when he slung the kid's arm over his shoulder and hoisted him off the stool. "Let's go, Peter Pan."

Staggering, Clay's head swam as he allowed Sonny to lead him out of the bar. They made it about fifty feet before he began to gag. He found himself on his knees in the gutter with Sonny holding his shoulders as he retched. The halibut tacos he consumed now as appealing as haggis.

As Sonny held the kid, he failed to notice the ten men approaching them. When they got close, and he spotted them it was too late. Five men attacked each one of them. As Sonny engaged them, his phone fell out of his pocket. His efforts halted when something hard whacked Sonny on the side of the head and his world went black.

Clay attempted to fight, his muddled mind aware Sonny and he were in a hazardous situation … but he was physically unable to fend off the men who put a bag over his head and bound his hands behind him. He was dragged and then lifted and tossed into a vehicle.

A thud beside him he assumed to be Sonny. Clay heaved again, but luckily, he had emptied the contents of his stomach already. As the vehicle began moving, Clay berated himself for getting shitfaced in hostile territory and allowing someone to get the drop on him and his brother.  _Hayes is gonna be pissed at me … might kick me off the team … then I won't have them or Stella._

* * *

_**Mexican Marine Headquarters** _

Mandy ran up the stairs to the roof as fast as a category five hurricane, needing to find Hayes. Though they had been at odds because she questioned Jason's mission readiness, he proved to be on point regardless of where his head or heart might lie. He had been spot on to question her tenaciousness in getting Doza, but she was no Carlson … she cared about all the men of Bravo. Hence the reason she was sprinting to him.

Coming to a halt near the firepit, finding Jason, Ray, Brock, and Trent kicked back with beers in hand her gut twisted not finding Clay among them. "Where is Spenser?"

Jason's brow rose, noting the harried expression. "Why?"

"Dammit, where is he?" Mandy bit out again.

"What's got you so hot to trot?" Ray asked.

"Tell me he is in the compound." Mandy's eyes beseeched Jason's ignoring Ray's remark.

Jason stood. Mandy's manner indicated this was serious. "No, he isn't. He's at a local bar with Quinn."

"We have to go get him. Now!"

The other three rose after setting down their beverages.

"Ellis, what's going on?" Jason demanded.

"We were able to hack into Castillo's phone. We check his social media and found there is a hit out on Clay. There's a picture of him without his helmet which appears to have been taken in Hercules and has the hashtag which translates to Kill the Blond win Doza's favor."

"Shit!" Jason and the others raced for the stairwell.

They were met in the courtyard by Blackburn, Davis, Martinez, and Lopez who had their weapons and tactical vests. As they hastily donned them, Eric said. "We tried calling, but neither answered, so Davis pinged their phones and found two locations."

Jason clipped his vest. "They wouldn't split up unless forced apart. Where?"

Lisa turned the laptop so Jason could view the locations. Ray peered over Jason's shoulder and pointed to one. "That's near the bar they were going to."

Nodding Jason said, "We go to the second one. Most likely one of them lost their phone."

"It's Sonny's phone," Lisa inserted.

Colonel Martinez latched his helmet strap. "My men will check that spot on the off chance one of your men is still there."

Climbing into the driver's seat of one of the vehicles, Lopez said, "I'll drive Hayes' team … I know the fastest route."

The men all hopped in, doors slammed, and tires squealed as Lopez blared his horn to get cars to move out of his way.

* * *

_**Horizon Hotel - Roof** _

Sonny came around as he was dumped on the ground … or rooftop to be more accurate. His head pounded as he glanced around, searching for the kid. Spotting him lying a few feet away he wondered why Clay was hooded and he wasn't. Though, both of them had their hands bound behind them.

He wished he spoke Spanish to understand the men who freely talked. However, he didn't need translation when two of the men yanked Clay up and held him as another goon began to beat on him. As much as he wanted to yell out for them to stop, Sonny knew if he did so they would go harder on the kid. Their hosts … landed one hit after another to Clay's gut and didn't stop until another man sauntered onto the scene.

Sonny recognized Gonzales.  _That's the bastard we let get away on the first mission here … Doza's main torturer. Well, fuck me running. How the hell did they single us out?_

As two men held Clay, Gonzales removed the hood and spoke in English, "I prefer to see my victim's faces … increases my pleasure."

Clay gasped for air, wanting to be sick again, his head swam, and he moved in and out of awareness from both excessive alcohol and lack of oxygen from trying to breathe through the heavy fabric. His first and only lucid thought was trying to locate Sonny, though he was in no shape to help him … let alone himself. He lifted his head and spotted Sonny across from him moments before a fist rammed into his face, whipping his head to the side.

Gonzales turned to Sonny and grinned. "You get a first-row seat to view what happens to someone who pisses off Doza. But don't worry, you'll be next." Gonzales inclined his head to the remaining men.

Sonny struggled to work his hands loose as each of Doza's henchmen took turns hammering the kid. Blood dripped from Clay's nose and mouth after several face strikes, but for the most part, they focused on his abdomen … the soft, vulnerable part of the anatomy. Every groan from Clay pierced Sonny's heart.

Mentally kicking himself for allowing the kid to drink so much, Sonny realized he should've cut him off sooner. He should've acquired the booze and gotten Spencer shitfaced within the safety of their compound. Now, he had to watch as they slowly killed his brother. He cringed when one of them held Spenser's head up by his hair and snapped several photos. Those would be going on the internet for sure. Though he was angry at Stella for breaking the kid's heart, he hoped to God, Stella never saw them.

Clay's head lolled to his chest when released, and Sonny wished the kid would pass out, but he didn't … the haunting scream which erupted from Clay when Gonzales swung a hammer at his left upper arm made it all too clear the kid felt all the pain inflicted.

"I'M GOING TO KILL EVERY ONE OF YOU FUCKING BASTARDS!" Sonny howled as Clay's eyes burst wide open and a strangled scream emitted as a huge hook impaled the kid just below the last rib on the right side. The whaling hook was attached to a pulley, and they began hoisting Clay up.

With the increased alcohol level serving as an anticoagulant, blood surged from the wound soaking Clay's shirt and jeans. Clay wanted nothing more than to black out … but fate was unkind, and he remained conscious. The excessive booze consumed worked as a pseudo anesthetic lessening the pain of the beating, but he felt every last ounce of this torture.

Gonzales laughed, getting his jollies from the horror-stricken face of the dark-haired soldier and the screams of the blond one. He took two more photos once they had the hooked one off the ground completely. "I say we hauled in quite a catch tonight. This will send the message you don't hassle Doza."

When one henchman began to strike him with a hockey stick, causing him to sway on the hook like a human piñata or a hog ready to be slaughtered, pure agony engulfed Clay. He tried not to cry out because every time he did, Gonzales laughed and Sonny recoiled as if experiencing his torture too. After ten strikes, Clay was no longer conscious of anything except excruciating, all-encompassing pain.

"Get the rope," Gonzales ordered.

Sonny's mouth went dry as one of the thugs brought a rope to Gonzales who then fashioned a noose.  _Oh, Hell no! They're gonna hang him._  After renewing his efforts, the bindings loosened a bit … Sonny hoped he could get free in time to save Clay.

Gonzales slipped the noose around Clay's neck, and Clay's head lolled as the hemp cinched on his throat. Blood dribbled out of his mouth, down his chin and onto his t-shirt. As the hook was yanked out and he was held up by two hulking men who dragged him to the edge of the roof, Clay had a vague understanding of his coming fate.

Sonny broke free, surged to his feet, and rushed towards Clay … his only goal … save the kid … somehow.

"NOOOOOO!" ripped from Sonny as Clay was heaved off the roof. His world spun and lit up with bright lights and sonic booms as he dropped to his knees … he failed … his brother was dead.

* * *

_**Building Across from Horizon Hotel - Roof** _

Ray's panicked voice called out, "Go. Go. Go. They're gonna toss Six off the roof." He sighted Gonzales, but as soon as Clay began to fall, he sent up a prayer that his aim would be true as he squeezed off a round.

He held his breath for what seemed like hours, but was mere seconds, and only released it as Clay's body landed in a huge pile of mulch the hotel had out front for a horticulture project in progress.

Ray silently thanked God he severed the hanging rope with one shot before Clay's inert body took up the slack while in free-fall, preventing the kid's neck from being snapped, which would've killed him instantly. Unfortunately, despite the cushioned landing, Spenser would most likely suffer injuries falling from the height of the two-story building, but to Ray, injuries were preferable to certain death.

"Bravo Four, you're needed on the street … the kid is down there." He sighted the hotel roof again and began taking out hostiles.

* * *

_**Horizon Hotel - Roof** _

"Go, we got this covered," Jason ordered as Trent hesitated and the flashbangs filled the night air, creating a hectic scene on the roof as men scurried like hares looking for cover.

Trent took off running back down the stairwell. His heart racing, wondering if he would be able to save the kid this time. Ray's description of the kid hanging from the hook and being batted around sounded horrific. He wished they arrived sooner and could've prevented that … though he also wondered how the hell Clay ended up on ground level … that was one hellacious fall.

Jason and Brock didn't hold back as they unleashed hellfire on the men who harmed their brothers. Both spotted Sonny on his knees near the roof's edge … in apparent shock since the Texan didn't budge one inch as the hailstorm took place around him.

Though Mandy would be hacked off, Jason fired at Gonzales and took pleasure in the payback he meted out with a headshot. Though, part of him wanted to torture the son of a bitch in the same manner as he had Clay … or perhaps take a hacksaw and cut off every damned appendage first.

With four shooters, Brock, him, and Lopez on this roof, and Ray sniping from across the road, it didn't take long to bring down all eleven of Doza's henchmen. As Lopez maintained watch for them, Jason and Brock moved to Sonny who still knelt, staring at the short wall around the hotel's roof.

"Hey, buddy," Jason pitched his tone soft, noticing the faraway haziness of Sonny gaze and the slow oozing of the hematoma on the back of Sonny's skull. Blood soaked the back collar of Sonny's shirt so it must've been one helluva hard hit.

"He's gone. My fault. Should've kept the kid safe at the hooch. Let him drink too much, but he hurt so much he needed to drown out his heartache. Now …" Sonny's voice hitched with emotion as his eyes welled and he shifted his gaze to Jason.

"Gotta get him down. Can't leave him hanging there … not right … not right at all … too young … just a kid … I couldn't save him." Sonny rose on unsteady legs and started towards the edge in a fog. The kid had carved out a spot in his heart which was now hollow and empty. Clay's death hit him harder than Adam's.

"He's not hanging. He's on the ground. Trent's with him." Jason grasped Sonny's arm to steady him and redirected him towards the stairwell.

"What?" Sonny stared, not quite comprehending. He swayed and Brock moved in to help keep Sonny on his feet.

"Ray shot the rope. Clay fell."

"He dead?" Sonny questioned, recognizing they were two stories up based on the building across the street.

"Trent, status," Jason requested.

"Need medevac stat. He's likely got other injuries, but his gut wound is the priority. The kid is hemorrhaging, and I can't stop the flow … not clotting as it should. We're gonna lose him if help doesn't arrive within minutes."  _Hold on, Kid … don't die on us … please._

As Ray raced down the stairs, he said, "Called it in. Helo two mics out."

Sonny stared at Jason, heartburn and his heart rate both increasing as he waited to hear if the kid lived.

"Alive and Trent is doing his best to keep him that way. Let's get downstairs, and you can ride in the helo with him … you need to be examined too." Jason guided Sonny, and when he faltered, both he and Brock swung Sonny's arms over their shoulders and assisted their wounded brother down the steps.

* * *

_**Hospital – Outside OR** _

Still wearing tactical gear and holding their weapons, Bravo team minus Ray and Sonny guarded the operating room. Jason hackles rose and he wouldn't take no for an answer when the staff attempted to make them leave. Hypervigilant, he refused to leave Clay to be guarded by anyone else. Blackburn fully supported his headstrong move, and so did Colonel Martinez.

Spotting Sonny, Ray, Lisa, and Eric down the hall, Jason breathed a sigh of relief. As they hit the bottom step in the hotel, Sonny had collapsed. Hyperventilating, bordering on hypoxic, after witnessing Clay fall, the shock to Sonny's system caused hypotension, his blood pressure plummeted to a dangerously low level. For the past three hours, Sonny had been in the emergency room, guarded by Ray, Eric, and Lisa, because Hayes refused to allow Quinn to be left open to another attack either.

"What's the word?" Jason asked as Ray came closer.

"Half a dozen stitches in his head and orders to rest for several days. They wanted to admit him to monitor his blood pressure, but Sonny will not heed the doctor's wishes," Ray said.

"Damn straight. I'm staying right the hell here." Directing his gaze to Trent, knowing he would give him the information in plain language rather than doctor speak, Sonny asked, "Any word on the kid yet."

Davis pulled over a chair and forced Sonny to sit, handed him an electrolyte replacement beverage, told him to drink, then tuned in to Trent who waited until Sonny was settled before speaking.

"Being impaled and hoisted on that long hook damaged his right upper quadrant. It penetrated his large intestine, and also caused a hepatic tear and intraperitoneal hemorrhaging."

The confused expressions reminded Trent to speak plainer. "Basically, the filthy hook tore a hole in his liver and caused massive internal bleeding. The risk of infection is quite high with a ruptured gut, especially hepatitis since god knows what was already on the hook plus anything additional it might have picked up, our innards aren't what you would call clean. They will need to monitor him closely."

Trent took a breath, letting the seriousness of Clay's condition sink in before he continued, "He sustained a clean fracture to his left humerus—"

"From the hammer or the fall?" Sonny asked.

"Hammer?" It was Trent's turn for a puzzled look.

"Yeah, that bastard Gonzales hit the kid's upper arm with a fucking hammer and laughed. Hell is too nice a place for that whoreson." Clay's cries of agony replayed in Sonny's head … sounds which would haunt his dreams for a very long time.

"Even Hell has standards Gonzales doesn't meet," Brock interjected wishing he had been the one to kill the son of a bitch.

Trent shook his head. "Not sure which caused the fracture. The head injury from hitting the ground is the one I'm most worried about. They can fix his gut and arm and tank him up on blood and antibiotics, but a two-story fall, even onto the softer mulch might leave him handicapped in one way or another. We won't know until after he wakes. With any luck, it will be only a concussion."

Davis drew in a breath. "Only …"

Sonny's head throbbed, but he responded, "Better than a snapped neck and death." When he listed to one side, Davis stopped him from falling out of the chair.

Raking a hand through his hair, Jason said, "You're staying here … in a bed in the same room as the kid. You might have a hard head, but one too many knocks and the alcohol you consumed means your grounded again.

Sonny only nodded. Being in Clay's room would be better than confined to the hooch and worrying about him.  _Hell, who am I kidding, I'm worried to death the heroic kid won't come back from this round of injuries … and this is all my fault…_


	5. Are You in Virginia?

* * *

_**Mexican Marine Headquarters - Infirmary** _

Jason leaned on the doorjamb of Clay's room, staring at the kid, lost in thought as the mechanical sounds of the ventilator breathing for Spenser echoed in his head. The beating the kid suffered from the hockey stick as he hung from the hook not only bruised his lungs but filled his pleural cavity with blood and the resulting hemothorax collapsed his right lung. The surgeon almost lost their rookie on the table as he repaired the damage to Clay's intestines and liver. They intubated him to give his lungs an opportunity to heal.

The last three days dragged on as they all waited for Spenser to wake. Blackburn and Martinez agreed with him that Clay would not be safe in the hospital with too many ingress points and unknown people having access. Especially since Doza had his hooks into the facility … the drug cartel leader funded the hospital's construction.

So, the morning after Clay's operation they moved him from the intensive care unit to the secure marine compound. Dr. Irving, Bravo team's doctor, believed an air-evac to the States was too risky given Spenser's precarious condition, so he arranged for all necessary medical equipment and supplies to be delivered in record time, and two Navy nurses were also flown in to provide round the clock care.

If Jason was honest with himself, he was glad the kid remained here. He didn't want Clay waking up isolated without his brothers around him for support. He had not missed Sonny's words on the hotel roof … ' _he hurt so much he needed to drown out his heartache.'_  Jason probed Sonny yesterday, and his 3IC finally revealed Stella dumped Clay right before they boarded the flight to Mexico.

He understood the emotional turmoil Clay was going through. Alana had told him she could no longer be his wife anymore right before they deployed to J-bad after Steve Porter and the rest of Echo died. The kid's demeanor since arriving in Mexico fit the heart-wrenching pain Jason experienced back then … loss of a friend and rejection from the woman he loved.

This was another reason he was relieved the kid was here and not back in Virginia. Spenser would not have anyone by his side to help him deal with the aftereffects of both the torture and his breakup back home. With Brian and Adam gone, Bravo was Clay's only friends … brothers, and with Stella out of the picture, no one would be there to care for him.

Naima would offer to sit with him and take care of him, but Clay didn't really know Ray's wife well enough to accept her help. So, Spenser would be in a vulnerable state and all alone. An indefensible situation in Jason's book since he was the reason Clay and Sonny ended up taken in the first place. His team was family, and the kid needed them more than ever now.

Jason needed to quit messing up with the kid, or they would lose him one way or another.  _I screwed up and got Nate killed. I won't allow that to happen to Clay._  Jason's hand rubbed his thigh, something which happened when thoughts of Nate crept back in.

"Any signs of waking?" Sonny asked as he returned after going to grab lunch at Jason's insistence.

Jason shook his head. "No." He gave Sonny a once over, satisfied he finally began to appear somewhat rested, though he doubted Sonny's insomnia abated. Sonny had not left Spenser's side except for the short breaks he forced him to take. Dr. Irving wanted to keep Quinn on the inactive list for another week at least after the significant blow Sonny received to the side of his head, and Jason agreed without reservation.

It took a lot to bring Sonny Quinn down, and he didn't take well to sitting idle, but in this case, with the kid hurt, Sonny didn't balk once at being told to stand down. Jason also recognized Sonny carried guilt over the attack. He tried several times to talk him out of it, to no avail.

Not one to give up, Jason tried again, "This isn't your fault. I'm the one who suggested you take him out. This is on me."

Resuming his seat, Sonny peered at Jason. He had ample time to ruminate on the situation in the past three days. "Not only on you or me … we both knew better. Should've told you what was going on and not taken the kid outside the wire and gotten inebriated. We both fucked up and must atone for our indiscretions and irresponsible actions."

Sonny's gaze shifted to Clay. The invasive tube attached to his mouth, the one running down the kid's throat to provide oxygen, disturbed him more than all the other wires and drainage tubes poking out of his torso. He rubbed his forehead with his fingertips as the ever-present, infernal headache pulsed and ratcheted up another increment.  _Concussions suck big time._

"Wish the kid would wake. We won't know how bad the injury to his head is until he does." Sonny focused on the abrasion around Clay's throat as his mind's eye replayed images of Clay being heaved off the roof with the noose around his neck. The sickening thought of the kid's neck snapping and the knowledge Clay fell two-floors and Sonny couldn't stop any of it, caused bile to rise and his gut to twist. He grabbed the emesis basin as he became ill.

Jason moved to the sink, wetted a cloth and filled a glass for Sonny. Though Sonny always projected an impenetrable, tougher-than-nails exterior, in truth, he was not impervious and possessed a caring heart. He would allow Sonny the dignity to claim the vomiting was due to the concussion, but having hurled himself after viewing the photos which ended up on the internet of Clay impaled by the whaling hook, he understood Sonny's current ralphing likely had to do with the kid's state.

Fortunately, Clay's face had been mostly unrecognizable in the snapshots due to the blood covering it and the position. Their IT guy continued to delete them every time they reappeared, and he hoped no one back home ever viewed them.

When Sonny finished, Jason handed over the water and waited while he rinsed before giving him the cloth. "Concussions are no joke. You might be down for longer than a week."

Sonny only grunted as he wiped his mouth. As he started to rise to dump the basin, Clay's day nurse appeared and relieved him of it and the rag, so he sat back down. Resting his elbows on his thighs, he lowered his face into his palms and sighed as the throbbing in his skull intensified. "What if he doesn't wake?"

Jason placed a hand on Sonny's shoulder. "He's one tough kid. Take a page from his book and remain optimistic."

Turning his head, Sonny gazed at Jason again. "Mary Poppins here does have the irritating habit of looking at the bright side of things."

A grin formed on Jason's face as the weirdest thought popped into his head. "I don't think anyone on Bravo has racked up as many nicknames as Spenser. Kid, Pretty Boy, Pin-up Girl, Peter Pan, Mr. GQ, Poster Boy, Young Jedi, Cover Girl, Bam-Bam, Ken Doll, and Hércules Hero."

Despite feeling crappy and worried sick about the kid, Sonny mirrored Jason's grin as he added, "Don't forget Blondie."

Jason nodded, but said, "That one is unoriginal. Besides, remember the Canadian's we encountered … I think Blondie belongs to Blaze's unit guy. We've got Goldilocks."

Both quieted as the nurse approached Clay to take his vitals. The medical staff watched him like a hawk, which all of the guys appreciated. The frown on her face caused Jason's apprehension to spike. "He doing okay?"

Shelia flinched at the master chief's inquiry. The implacable man unsettled her and relaying bad news about one of his men stirred up untold anxiety in her. "Um … I … well,"

"Spit it out," Jason demanded.

Sonny took pity on the intimidated nurse and used his soft Texas drawl as he said, "His bark is worse than his bite. How's our boy?"

Focusing on the one who never left her patient's side, Shelia gathered her wits and answered, "His temp is going up again. Not a good sign. Dr. Irving might need to change up the antibiotic to fight the infection."

Jason raked a hand through his hair. "Damn, the kid doesn't need to be fighting an infection on top of everything else."

"The hook was none too clean when they impaled …" Sonny trailed off as nausea threatened him again. The inhuman actions of Gonzales he would never forget nor Clay's scream. He couldn't sleep because the kid's howl haunted his dreams.

Trent entered, wanting to check on both Sonny and Clay and caught the last of Sonny's words. He tried to assuage Sonny's fears. "Kid's got a strong immune system, and he is damned stubborn. With the right meds, he's gonna fight this and come out on top."

As Shelia left to make her notes and contact the doctor, Brock and Ray sauntered in to check on Clay as well. With no intel on Doza to go on recently, they were all waiting around as Mandy, and her Mexican counterpart dug for information. Though, each of them silently gave thanks they had not been sent out yet even though this mission was now personal and they wanted payback for what Clay suffered.

Ray stopped near Jason. "Derek and Full Metal from Alpha team will be flying down the day after tomorrow to cover for Clay and Sonny. The rest of Alpha will be running a training cycle with Green team. Admiral Droit almost scrubbed us and brought in Charlie, but Blackburn went to bat for us."

As the team discussed the news Ray brought, none of them noted the slight twitch of Clay's hand.

Clawing his way up from the depths of hell … or better yet the Arctic with as cold as he was, unsure of anything other than pain and the inability to breathe, Clay attempted to move his icy, leaded arms to his throat to pull out whatever had been shoved down. Unable to lift a hand or call out for help, fighting for air, the sense of drowning overtook him. A high-pitched, incessant ringing filled his ears as he began to struggle against the hands of his father dragging him down to his death.

Trent went into action as the alarm went off as Clay fought against the ventilator's forced breaths. He didn't worry the kid would pull out the tubing, he had the insight to restrain his hands to the bed, but he forgot about his lower body. "Jace, Brock grab his legs. Ray get the doc," he ordered as he moved to Clay's head.

"Relax, Kid. Don't fight. Let the ventilator do its job. Relax." Trent continued speaking, trying to break through to his semi-conscious brother.

"Sonny, hold his left arm, so he doesn't knock the cast around and hurt himself," Jason called out as he held onto Clay's thrashing leg.

"At least he can't kick me out of a helo this time," Brock quipped as he latched on to the bare foot and pushed the limb down on the mattress, moving his other hand to depress Clay's knee too.

"Kid, stop fighting this instant," Sonny bellowed irregardless of the pain it caused his aching head as he pinned Clay's arm.

Panic consumed Clay as he blinked open his eyes as someone yelled at him, which increased his struggling instead of abating it.

"Stand down," Jason commanded in a voice which brooked no dissent. Gaining Clay's attention, he continued with the harsh authority, recognizing it was the only thing cutting through. "Stay still. You are intubated. Calm and let it breath for you." As Clay's resistance lessened, Jason relaxed his tone a bit. "Good. Good. That's it. You're safe. We got you, Kid."

Dr. Irving and Shelia rushed in with Ray. Irving went straight to the head of the bed and started talking to his patient, assessing the situation and listening to Clay's lungs, determining now would be a good time to remove the ventilator.

As the alarm quieted, Clay's body sagged, the exertion of the last few moments taking all his energy. Confused, he listened to the doctor and the sensation of drowning ebbed as he quit battling against the forced air. The process of pulling out the tubing was not fun, his throat was on fire, but at least he could breathe on his own. Though, doing so caused additional pain. He attempted to move his right hand again to press against his chest.

"Sorry, buddy, had to restrain you or else you could've done more damage if you yanked out the tube on your own." Trent unlatched the soft cuff holding Clay's wrist as the doctor adjusted the flow of oxygen through the nasal cannula and the nurse released Clay's other hand.

Clay eyed the men around him. He wanted to talk, to ask questions, but making any sound would as impossible as swallowing a bowling ball … not happening.

Dr. Irving said, "Well, son, breathing on your own is progress, but you will need to take things very slow. Speaking will hurt for a few days so refrain from doing too much." He turned to the concerned teammates. "Try to stick to only yes or no questions so he can nod or shake his head to answer."

Clay's eyes drifted shut, keeping them open took way too much effort.

"Open your eyes," Trent demanded, not caring he overstepped his position, but needing to know the extent of the head injury.

With a great deal of effort, Clay opened them and peered at the man with long hair and a beard … not the doctor.

"Are you in Virginia?" Trent inquired.

Clay nodded.

"Shit," Sonny muttered.

"Are you in Mexico City?"

Confusion lit Clay's eyes, and he shook his head. He wanted to ask why the idiotic question since he just answered yes to being in Virginia.

Trent's gaze met the doctor's. "Not good."

Irving considered the next question. "Do you know your name?" Getting a nod, he said, "Whisper."

"Wait." Trent peered at Shelia. "Get me some ice chips."

Clay's eyes slipped closed again as he forced out, "Cl … ay … Sp … en … ser."

Shelia returned with a cup and Trent scooped up two tiny pieces. "Open up. This will help quench the fire and make it easier."

The icy liquid did feel good, but speaking would still be an immense challenge. His body began to shiver, the cold he experienced upon waking reasserting itself. "Co … ld."

"Fever," Trent replied.

Dr. Irving inserted himself, regaining control, though he no longer resented Trent's intrusion into his domain.  _The medic cares deeply for his brothers, and he is an intelligent man … doctor material._  "So, you are in Virginia, is that correct?"

Clay nodded.

"What is the last thing you remember?"

Jason and the rest waited on pins and needles for Clay to answer, especially since the kid believed he was back home.

His mind scrambled, things incongruent, wondering what the hell happened in training to land him in the hospital with Hayes' infamous Bravo team surrounding his bed. Clay lit on the last solid memory.  _Ah shit!_  He cracked his eyes open and peered at Hayes who appeared irate with his arms crossed on his chest.

More ice was spooned into his mouth, and Clay used the time it melted to gather the energy necessary to speak, hating to admit his failure. "Lea … ving … the … gym … after … bot … tom … five … pos … ted."

Jason's eyes flared as he sought out Trent. "What the hell?" They turned back to Spenser. "The last thing you recall is finding out you were in the bottom five of Green team?"

Giving a slight nod, Clay lost his battle with staying awake even though he wanted to know what happened to him.

Dr. Irving noted Clay slipped off. "Shelia, administer the fever reducer and change out the antibiotics to what I ordered. We need to drop his temp and get this infection under control."

"How can he lose so much time?" Brock inquired.

"That's over a year ago. He lost a whole year?" Sonny gaped.

"It's not unheard of with head injuries. We may be looking at retrograde amnesia, but I won't know without further testing." Irving rechecked Clay's vitals, not entirely happy with the oxygen saturation so he increased the level until satisfied.

"Will his memory come back?" Ray moved to the foot of the bed and waited for Irving to answer.

"Perhaps. A lot of the mind's workings are still inexplicable. Some people retrieve all memories, and some never regain the lost time. He is too exhausted now to do further analysis. Tomorrow will be soon enough. Take heart in the fact he woke, can speak, and is coherent. A few lost memories is incredibly lucky given the height of his fall and the other injuries he suffered."

The doctor's words sank in and the guys all nodded … Clay was indeed fortunate to be alive.

* * *

_**Mexican Marine Headquarters – Roof Firepit** _

The guys along with Lisa and Eric all gathered on the rooftop under the night sky. Most lost in thoughts centered on Clay as they sipped beer. Only Sonny remained empty-handed, denied alcohol by Trent again due to his concussion.

Lisa broke the silence. "Does anyone know when exactly Clay met Stella?" She received shrugs all around. She pursed her lips in thought. "Depending on when, he might not recall his relationship with her. If he regains his memories, he's gonna go through the heartbreak all over again."

Jason took a swig. "Not the only one."

Nodding Ray said, "His buddy Brian died after the list was posted."

"And Adam too," Sonny added wishing he could become intoxicated to deal with the guilt consuming him.

"Should we tell him or wait for him to remember?" Lisa asked as she focused on Trent

When all eyes landed on him, Trent growled. "Don't know. Give me a bullet wound to treat, and I'm your guy. Head injuries of this sort …" He shook his head. "I'm not a neurologist nor versed memory loss."

Brock peered at Jason and Eric. "What happens to his place on the team if he can't remember?"

Jason took another swig, not a question he wanted to think about now. He wanted to inoculate himself with enough beer so he didn't have to feel the remorse for his inexcusable decision to send Sonny and Clay out to a bar to loosen the kid's tongue, but he wouldn't. As team leader, his job was to stay on task and ensure the welfare of his men … something he refused to fail at again.

"If he heals physically and passes a psychological exam, I see no reason he couldn't come back," Eric said, though part of him didn't believe it would be possible given the almost insurmountable obstacles to Clay's recovery. A fact he kept to himself since he was not ignorant of the likelihood of Sonny going off like a roman candle for even suggesting Clay wouldn't return.

"Keyword is if." Ray stood and moved to the roof's edge and stared down into the center of the compound. Guilt weighed on him. His shot resulted in Spenser falling and hitting his head, causing the kid's memory issue, but if he hadn't fired, the kid would be dead. He just couldn't figure out if Clay would thank him or curse him if he could no longer be an operator.

During his time teaching Green team after his shoulder injury, Ray almost went insane not being able to be part of Bravo. All team guys had one thing in common … they wanted to fight the good fight, and if they were incapacitated, they withered on the vine.

Having been away from Clay for far too long … again at the insistence of Jason, Sonny stood. "Calling it a night."

"I'll head on inside with you. The insects are eating me up tonight." Lisa tossed her half-filled beer in the trash. Her guys were falling apart, and she didn't know how to put them back together, but for tonight she would keep Sonny company in Clay's room. The teddy bear needed someone to watch out for him too.


	6. Caring for Clay and the Photo

_**Virginia – University – Faculty Office** _

Frank Isaksson stared at the image, and a sneer came to his face. His hatred for Stella's boyfriend increased as word of the soldier's idiotic heroics at the gallery swirled around him. Stella deserved someone more refined, someone who wasn't a warmonger, … someone like him. "Hey, Morgan. You gotta see this." He waved over his colleague whom he had been at odds with ever since the heist at the Farris Gallery.

Working later than normal, and irritated at being interrupted in grading the boatload of poorly written essays, Morgan glanced over at Frank. "What do I have to see?"

"I think this is a photo of Stella's guy."

Morgan pushed back his chair and stood. He stretched his back before ambling over. Isaksson's obsession with Stella, or more precisely trying to find incriminating dirt on her boyfriend to dissuade her from continuing a relationship with the guy, was becoming irksome.

"Okay, so what do you think you found this—" Morgan abruptly stopped as his eyes rounded and his brows shot to the ceiling. "Jesus H. Christ!" Morgan's stomach did several loops, his dinner now unsettled, as he viewed the image of a beaten and bloody man hanging from a hook. "That's inhumane. How in the world did you find something like that?"

"Just popped up when I was searching." Frank leaned back after hitting the print button. "Another example of our military sticking their noses into international affairs. We have no business going into Mexico and dealing with a drug lord. We aren't the world's police force."

Morgan's hand shook as he rubbed the back of his neck. "Why are you printing that?"

"Thought Stella might be interested in seeing."

"ARE YOU INSANE? NO WAY AM I ALLOWING YOU TO SHOW THIS TO STELLA!" Morgan grabbed the printout and ripped it in half.

"I can always print another copy." Frank right clicked to select print again.

"Why would you want her to view something so utterly brutal. She loves the guy, and you want to hurt her intentionally by showing her this?" Incredulous and incensed, Morgan waved the two pieces at Frank. "You're despicable. Your thought process is unbalanced. If you follow through with this … our friendship will be irrevocably broken."

"Why shouldn't she be aware of what his activities wrought?" Frank clicked print. "This is his just desserts for trying to play hero."

Usually not a violent man, Morgan didn't hold back as he let his fist fly. He shook out his hand, his knuckles throbbing, likely busting a couple when his fisted hand connected with Frank's jaw. "You're an ignoramus!" he declared to Isaksson's inert body which sagged in the chair, his one punch knocking out his former friend.

Grabbing the second printout, Morgan took both to the shredder and destroyed the images. He blew out a breath before fishing for his cell and placing a call to Stella. When she answered, he said, "Hello, Stella. I was wondering if you would grab a drink with me. I need to talk to you about something important." He paused as she indicated she was busy and asked if it could wait until tomorrow. "No, it can't wait, and I don't want to speak on the phone."

When she agreed and suggested that they meet at the Iron Iris coffee shop in twenty minutes, he hung up the phone. Morgan took one last glance at the insensitive and insufferable asshole who used to be a friend before he strode out of the office.

* * *

_**Mexican Marine Headquarters – Infirmary** _

Isabella wiped the sweat from her patient's forehead again. The fever as a result of the infection had gotten worse, not better even after the change in antibiotics. When she took over from Shelia after dinner, her colleague told her Dr. Irving wanted updates every thirty minutes.

She peered at the bruised face of the blond SEAL as she wrung out the cloth after dipping it in cool water. He would be irresistibly handsome without all the inflammation. She glimpsed his blue eyes when he woke briefly an hour ago. His fever made him incoherent as he called out for someone named Stella. His moans and whimpers broke her heart when he moved earlier, and she injected another dose of morphine via his IV port to ease his pain.

Sonny and Lisa entered as the night nurse took Clay's temperature. "Fever going down?" Sonny asked as he moved to the bed and picked up the washcloth, dipped it into the pan of water, squeezed it out, and gently dabbed at Clay's face.

Lisa couldn't stop the upturn of her lips … most people only ever saw the irascible side of Sonny, never the sensitive and caring side.

"Going up, not down," Isabella answered as she dialed the doctor. After a short conversation, she gazed at the burly SEAL. "I hate to impose on you, but I could use your help. The doc wants me to use the cooling pads which means I'm going to have to reposition Clay to put them under him."

"Whatever you need." Sonny set the rag down.

"I'll help too," Lisa offered as she moved forward.

Isabella hurried out and returned several moments later with her arms full. "We'll need to roll him on his left side first, but need to raise his broken arm above his head so no weight is placed on it." As they worked, Isabella said, "Before you came in, he was mumbling a name. Do you know who Stella is?"

Lisa averted her eyes as Clay's bare butt became visible as the indiscreet hospital gown shifted when they rolled him. Her tone icy, angry at Stella, she answered, "She's no one important."

"Sure sounded like she might be …" Isabella trailed off as she caught sight of a flash of inconspicuous hatred on Sonny's face. She sucked in her bottom lip and chewed on it.  _Well, now, there must be a story there, but it is not my place to pry._

Pulled from oblivion as agony increased, Clay moaned. Lifting his eyelids to find out what was going on took too much effort. He groaned again as his body shifted, the pain in his right side and left arm shooting to the moon. "St … op," he begged in a broken voice barely above a whisper which caused his throat to catch fire again.

"Sorry, brother, gotta move you. You're burning up with fever, and we need to douse the fire," Sonny crooned in his soft drawl. He grimaced knowing he was causing the kid pain but understood the need to move him.

The voice sounded familiar … like someone Clay trusted. He moaned again as he was laid flat on his back. He shivered when coming in contact with something icy. He wanted off but didn't dare move as he panted through the all-consuming pain.

"Now, let's carefully shift him on the right … we need to ensure the sutures are not pulled," Isabella instructed as she prepared to lay the cooling pad under Spenser's left side.

"Aaaaarrrrghhh," erupted from Clay and morphed into moaning as they turned him to his right side. Instinct drove him to lash out, but he was ineffectual in his attempt to strike … a two-ton weight wrapped around his arm preventing him from lifting it.

"Whoa there, Bam-Bam!" Sonny grabbed for Clay's casted arm, holding it in place, so he didn't cause further harm. "I know it hurts, and I wouldn't do this unless necessary." He glanced at the nurse. "When can he have more meds?"

"Not for another hour. With his lung injury, we can't give him as much morphine as we'd like because the medication depresses respiration and the doctor doesn't want him getting insufficient oxygen."

As the heart rate monitor started beeping, Sonny leaned in close. "Okay listen up, Goldilocks. We're gonna breathe together, and you're gonna get through this. Inhale. Hold. Exhale. That's right. Inhale … hold … exhale." Sonny kept up the chant as Clay calmed and followed along.

Clay latched onto the voice, finding comfort in the timbre as he breathed through the pain. He shivered uncontrollably as he was lowered to his back once again. "Cccc oooold."

"I know, I know. We got you laying on an igloo to bring down your fever." Sonny held the kid's hand as his eyes misted ever so slightly, wanting to relieve his little brother's discomfort.

Lisa wished she could do something to help Clay, but in reality, she knew she couldn't take his pain or fever away, so she only stood at the foot of the bed and observed as Sonny attempted to keep Clay relaxed.

His eyes opening in a narrow slit, Clay found the voice belonged to Bravo's weapons expert, a man with a reputation of being an inscrutable hard-ass. The inconsistency between what he knew of Quinn and the fact he held his hand and spoke kind words confused Clay.  _Why is Quinn even here? Where is Brian? What happened to me?_  He wanted answers, but before he could form any words, the arms of Morpheus encircled him, pulling him back down into the black abyss.

Sonny sighed as Clay's hand went lax in his, relieved the kid found escape from his torment in insensibility. He stayed a few more moments before setting the kid's hand on the lightweight sheet and moving to the recliner Trent relocated to this room for him. Dropping into the chair, Sonny's gaze met Lisa's. "I don't know how to do this."

"You sure? You calmed him down quite well." Lisa pulled one of the plastic chairs closer to Sonny.

"You didn't see his eyes. I think he blames me." Sonny leaned back and let out a long breath.

"How can he? He doesn't even remember. And besides, this isn't your fault. That lies with Doza and his indentured goons."

"But he was calling for Stella."

"That could be subconscious …" Lisa sighed. "You know, that is probably a positive sign. If unconsciously he recalls her, then his memories are not lost. It might take a little time, but I'm hopeful they will return."

"And when they do … he'll blame me … as is only right." Sonny raked a hand over his face.

"Sonny—"

"No," he interrupted. "I'm the senior member. I should've used my head. I shouldn't have taken him outside the compound no matter what Jason said."

Lisa shook her head, not liking this whole situation in the least. "Jace shouldn't have told you to take him out."

"I should have told Jason what is up. He has too much on his mind after Alana died and having to manage Emma and Mikey on his own. I let Clay down. He is my responsibility, and I failed him. Ray's the only one with a clear head … but he also laid into the kid the morning after we went out the first time and told him he doesn't get to second guess Jason."

Sonny shifted. "Maybe the kid was right to question Jason's headspace. He should've questioned mine too. When Clay recalls, if he does, he will most likely request a transfer. Might be the best thing for him … he needs a team that won't let him down."

Her ire up, Lisa bit back, "What Clay needs is Bravo. You all need each other. It's time you quit wallowing in self-pity, pull up your bootstraps and be there for Spenser. You know damned well he would lay his life on the line for each and every one of you … and has numerous times. The least you can do is to stop this crap thinking and man-up for him when he needs you all the most."

Duly chastised Sonny gaped at Lisa as she stood.

"Now, the best way you can help him is to ensure you don't fall ill. Get your butt up out of that chair, go to your bed and get some decent sleep. You'll need to be well rested when he wakes tomorrow because I'm sure he's gonna have a ton of questions." Lisa crossed her arms and glared at Sonny. Someone had to kick his ass in gear, and it looked like it fell to her.

"I'll sleep here," Sonny responded.

"No, you won't." Lisa pointed to the door. "Move. I'll stay here tonight, and his nurse is more than competent. Go rest."

Grumbling, Sonny rose and headed for the door. At the entry, he stopped and turned. "Call me if anything changes or he needs me."

"Will do." Lisa heavily exhaled as Sonny exited.

Isabella chuckled. "Wow. If I didn't know better, I'd say you were an officer with the way you got him to comply. And by the way, thanks … he needed sleep."

Lisa only nodded as she moved to the recliner and sat. She still hadn't told anyone about her commission and decided to hold off indefinitely since Bravo appeared to be in a freefall with no backup chute.  _Will Bravo survive this mission as an intact team?_

* * *

_**Iron Iris Coffee Shop** _

Stella gaped at Morgan as he finished. "Why would Frank want to show me something so horrible?" She couldn't wrap her head around some items. One, Frank would intentionally search for things on Clay. Two, how he thought that would engender him to her. And three, most importantly … "Wait, was it Clay?"

Morgan lowered his eyes to the table, intending to lie. "Could've been anyone with blond hair. The face was not really visible." He left out the part about it being covered in blood, the fact the man was impaled and hanging from a hook, and wearing a t-shirt he had seen Clay wear once before, the gray one with white lettering which read  _Nobody_ _cares. Work harder._  He glossed over the details, only saying it was of a man beaten.

"But Frank believed it was Clay?" Her eyes beseeched Morgan, fear for Clay ratcheting up and immobilizing her.

Raising his eyes to meet Stella's, Morgan covered her hands with his. "Frank is an inconsiderate ass who has an inflated sense of his worth and enjoys making inflammatory remarks. I can't truly speak to his motivation, he might be infatuated with you, but I can tell you for sure that ever since Clay risked his life to save us all at the faculty gala, something has been off with Frank. Almost like he possesses the infantile belief Clay did what he did to make us look like cowards and idiots for hiding in the bathroom while he single-handedly defused all those bombs."

"But … that's what Clay does. It is who he is. He runs toward danger when most everyone else runs away. He's a protector … an elite soldier. He only did what he did to help us, not to outshine anyone else." Stella pulled her hands away.

Her words knocked around in her head and mixed with her muddled thoughts.  _Clay wants to protect everyone, but I fear for his life every time he leaves. He almost died in Mumbai … Adam did._  She wished she hadn't ignored all of the times Clay tried to contact her after he got spun up again. Now she had no clue if he was truly the man in the photo Morgan told her about.

"I'm sorry, Stella. I only wanted to give you a heads-up, so Frank didn't blindside you with that damned image." Morgan shuddered as he recalled the photo.

Stella drew in a breath. "Thanks. I appreciate your concern." She pushed back her chair and rose. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Morgan nodded. "Let me know if you hear from Clay."

"He normally doesn't call while on a mission." She deflected because she had not shared with anyone that she broke up with him before he left.

"Didn't he contact you during deployment?" Morgan opened his wallet and put down enough to cover their coffees and a tip too before he stood.

"Yes, but that is different."

"Must be hard never knowing when he is gone and when he will return. If you ever need someone to talk to … give me a ring. My partner says I'm an excellent listener."

Taking the opportunity to move away from thoughts of Clay, Stella inquired, "How is Ian?"

"He's well and enjoying his trip to Indonesia, although several in the tour group have come down with a mild case of influenza. He's hoping it bypasses him."

As they walked out, Stella asked, "Are you two still planning on the trip to Iceland?"

Morgan chuckled. "Not if I can talk Ian out of it. I have no desire to go view icebergs and have icicles hanging off my nose. I would prefer to travel to India, Italy, or perhaps Ireland. A pub tour to all the places Professor Flanagan keeps talking about would interest me more."

Stella smiled despite being ill at ease after their conversation. Flanagan was the first professor not to turn his nose up at Clay, believing him some simple-minded imbecile and ingratiated himself by asking Clay to join him for a beer when they met. Those two enjoyed a long conversation on many topics.  _Clay's an intelligent man … not a knuckle dragger as many of my colleagues imply._

As she reached her car, she turned to Morgan. "Thanks again." She waited until Morgan left, and then her tears started.  _Please don't let it be Clay in the photo. Please let him be alright._

* * *

_**Stella's Apartment** _

Unable to get the thought out of her mind all the way home and for the past three hours, Stella paced in her living room, and her gaze kept returning to the laptop. She tried contacting Clay multiple times. He never answered.

Though Morgan sought to insulate her from Frank's ignoble and insincere attempt to dissuade her from caring for Clay, he sparked an insatiable desire to know if the photo was actually the man she loved or some other poor soul.

The itch to sit down and do an internet search intruded upon every single thought to the point she needed to scratch it or go insane. No longer able to ignore it, Stella plopped onto her couch and pulled the laptop to her. Fingers hovered over the keys as she wondered what Frank would've searched on to locate the photo.

She typed Clay's name and hit search. Photos of several Clay Spenser's came up, and one of Ash Spenser, Clay's father, but none of Clay himself. With no clue as to what their mission was or where Stella stared at the screen.  _Come on, what would the inglorious bastard Frank search for? He hates the military …_

Her thoughts were interrupted by the ping indicating a new email. Hoping it was from Clay, she switched to her email program and stopped cold as she read Frank Isaksson's name in her inbox, noting it contained an attachment. With a shaking hand, she opened and read the message.

_Dear Stella,_

_Thought this might interest you. Your warmongering boyfriend isn't right for you. You need someone who his more sophisticated and won't leave you at the drop of a hat … or the ringing of a cell phone — someone who will put you first, instead of traipsing around the world sticking his nose into international affairs where we don't belong and ultimately coming home in a pine box._

_Call me when you decide to drop the indoctrinated, immature, illiterate boy and are ready for a real man._

_Yours Truly, Frank_

Rage burned bright as Stella digested the infuriating words, but she moved the cursor over the attached image … uncertain if she should open it. Once seen, she could never unsee whatever it contained.

Her finger lowered and double clicked at the same time her eyes closed. She took several deep breaths.  _It's not going to be Clay. He is safe. The men of Bravo take care of him. It won't be him._

Opening her eyes, she instantly focused on the face. The blood covering it would never in a million years hide the fact it was Clay. She knew him intimately … had caressed his cheeks and run her fingers through his curly locks an incalculable number of times. Her gaze shifted down, wondering at the odd angle of his body.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" ripped from her throat as she spotted the huge hook embedded in Clay's gut. Her face crumbled as she realized he was hanging by that hook. Tears welled, blurring her vision as heart-wrenching sobs wracked her body. Her wails pierced the night air as she folded inward, wrapping her arms around herself.

Hearing banshee-like screeching, Ivy rushed out of her bedroom, unsure what to expect and found Stella curled in a ball on their couch and her laptop on the carpet. "Stella, are you hurt?" She dropped to a knee, searching for something, anything to tell her what happened.

Gutted by what she viewed, her heart shattering into immeasurable pieces, Stella didn't realize she woke her roommate as she continued to sob and crocodile tears streamed down her face. "Clay, Clay, Clay … no, no, no … Clay no," she chanted in indescribable despair.

Insistent, Ivy shook Stella and considered slapping her face. She was aware Stella dumped Clay but still loved the guy. With the repeated calling of his name, Ivy worried Stella had been informed he died … but then she realized someone would've come to the door, not called. Although she wondered if that were really the case because Stella wasn't Clay's next of kin and wouldn't be notified via the normal channel.

"STELLA, WHAT'S WRONG?" Ivy yelled trying to break through the irrational behavior. Her gaze moved to the overturned computer, and she picked it up. Aghast, Ivy's eyes rounded at the image. "Is that Clay?" She assumed so when Stella didn't answer … though, in truth, Ivy couldn't ascertain the identity of the person given the amount of blood on the man's face. Her stomach became queasy with only one glimpse.

She turned her attention back to Stella. Her friend's sobbing showed no signs of stopping as Stella rocked herself in a fetal position. At a loss for what to do, Ivy reached for Stella's discarded phone, but she didn't know who to call. Stella's mother was out for sure. The woman had been a real witch lately, hounding Stella about choosing a man who would provide for her adequately and not leave her alone all the time like Clay. The old biddy didn't understand Stella loved Clay with all her heart.

Ivy scrolled through the contacts and happened upon Naima, a name she recognized as one of the wives of Bravo. She punched call, and after several rings, a groggy voice answered, "Stella?"

"Naima, you don't know me. I'm Stella's friend Ivy. I need help. I have no idea what to do."

Sitting up in bed, rubbing her eyes and checking the clock, noting it was near midnight, and hearing wailing in the background, Naima said, "Tell me what is going on."

"I'm not exactly sure. Stella is inconsolable. I think she saw a picture of Clay someone sent her. It's horrific. If it is him, someone impaled him on a hook and beat the ever-living tar out of him. What do I do?"

Throwing off her covers, Naima rose. "Stay with her. I'm going to make some calls, and I'll get back to you shortly. Someone will be over to help soon too. I'll come as soon as my mother can get here to watch my kids."

"Thanks." Ivy stared at the phone when it disconnected. She didn't understand the military community. It surprised her that Naima would instantly offer to come over at this time of night. And she wondered who else would be showing up.

She turned back to Stella who began to hyperventilate. "Hey, hey, slow it down. Inhale slower." She rubbed Stella's arm feeling completely inadequate to help her friend.


	7. The Email

_**Mexican Marine Headquarters – Bravo Hooch** _

The incessant ringing of Ray's phone pulled him from sleep. He peered at the screen and nearly fell out of his hammock when he registered it was his wife. He put his feet on the floor and stood. "Naima, is everyone alright?"

A sigh of relief escaped from Naima. Though she didn't know the circumstances yet, thoughts of her husband being in harm's way played in her mind. "Ray, baby, I'm glad you answered. The kids and I are fine. I need a straight answer from you. We have an incident, and I must know the truth if I'm going to help."

Ray held still. "What type of incident?" Thoughts of Doza's men going after his family crept in. If they identified Clay and Sonny, chances were the rest of their identities might be compromised too. And he wouldn't put it past Doza to target their families even though they were in the States.

"I don't have the full details. A friend of Stella's just called me, frantic and asking for help. Stella was crying in the background. All I know is someone sent Stella a picture and Ivy believes it might be Clay based on Stella's reaction. She said the man in the photo was impaled on a hook and badly beaten. Please tell me Clay is alright and it isn't him."

Ray's heart dropped at the same time as his worry increased. "Who sent her the photo?"

Naima sucked in a breath and tears prickled her eyes. Ray would've told her it wasn't Clay immediately if it was not him … but he asked who sent the picture. "I don't know." Her voice shook as she asked, "Is Clay dead?"

"No. No. Sorry, should've said that first. He's injured, but alive. Babe, I hate to ask this of you … we need to know who sent it."

"I called Trish, and she is on her way … she knows Stella best with her and Derek living across the hall from Clay's place. I'm going over as soon as Mom arrives. I'll find out for you. Are they shipping Clay home?"

"Not yet."

"When? How bad is he?"

"No idea when, and bad, really bad." Ray contemplated telling Naima about the breakup and Clay's amnesia but decided to hold off for now. "Don't look at the photo, please. We tried to wipe them from the internet, but …"

"Once it is out there, it is perpetual." Naima sunk onto her bed. "Is there anything I can do?"

Ray strode to Jason's area as he said, "Just call me as soon as you find out how Stella received the photo."

"I mean for Clay?" Naima clarified.

"Pray. The kid needs all the prayers he can get."

"Okay. I'll call you soon." Naima hung up and bowed her head sending up a plea to God to watch over the men of Bravo team and to heal Clay.

Moving to Jason's hammock, he shook his friend. "Jace, wake up. We got an issue."

Blinking his heavy lids open, Jason peered up at Ray. "What?"

"Someone sent Stella that damned photo Gonzales took of Clay. Naima is on her way over to Stella's place, and so is Trish." Ray squeezed the back of his neck. "Guess the IT guy didn't wipe out the damned thing."

Wide awake now, Jason sat up. "Do we know who sent it?"

"Not yet. If it is one of Doza's men, our families might be in danger."

"Roust the others. I'll grab Eric and Mandy. I want everyone in the TOC in five minutes." Jason pulled on his pants and shoved his feet into his shoes. He grabbed a shirt and pulled it on as he exited the team's quarters.

* * *

**_Mexican Marine Headquarters – Infirmary_ **

Clay woke as he overheard voices, but he struggled to comprehend and to open his eyes. His body was being insubordinate and failed to cooperate with his desires. He shivered as cool liquid ran down his face and a soft cloth followed. So cold, Clay wished for his last deployment with Team Three in the hot, dry Afghanistan desert.

"Why would she care?" Lisa responded when Sonny came to get her. She now held an inverse opinion of Stella. Clay would be well rid of such a feckless woman. He needed someone who would weather the storms with him, and be there to support him through thick and thin.

"You didn't view the photos … having been there and seeing the damned things too … someone would have to be insane not to be affected by them. And, well, he told me she loved him but resented his life. Cut her a little slack." Sonny glanced at Clay. "Not a conversation we should be having right now. Jace wants us in TOC in case this is Doza's doing."

"I'm not about to let her off the hook …" Lisa cringed at her choice of words. "Her timing was inappropriate and insensitive. If she waited, he wouldn't have been intoxicated and inattentive." She waved at the bed. "And he wouldn't be here in this condition."

Sonny grimaced. "My fault not hers."

"I don't agree. Her inconsiderate actions started the ball rolling." Lisa stormed out of the room intent on heeding Jason's directive to assemble at the TOC, and Sonny jogged to catch up with her.

Isabella sighed as the two left. "Well, now you can rest without the loud noises waking you."

With immense effort, Clay lifted his eyelids. It took a moment to focus. His tongue darted out to lick his dry lips … they felt as rough as an iguana.

"Want some ice chips?" Isabella asked.

Clay nodded and was rewarded with a couple of pieces. He let them melt, quenching the fire still raging in his throat and opened for more.

"Only a little … you are not ready for more just yet." Isabella gave Clay two more chips.

After he swallowed, Clay managed to croak out, "What … hap … pened … to me?"

Isabella turned to put the cup on the table. "You were injured. I don't have the details. The doctor can explain when he comes in." She pivoted back, ready to give him a smile and kind word, but noted her patient slipped unconscious again. She noted the brief moment of consciousness on the chart. Due to the raging fever, he never stayed awake more than a few moments, and this was the first time he spoke on her shift.

* * *

_**Mexican Marine Headquarters – TOC** _

Jason paced as he ran his fingers through his hair. So much for sleeping tonight. As the team, Mandy, Eric, and Lisa congregated an internal debate roared in his head. Irate the photo made it to someone one of the team cared about, the kid still loved Stella even though she ripped his heart out, and worried they had been compromised, Jason waffled between wanting to fly home this instant to protect his children and staying here to rip apart the country until they located and killed Doza.

Eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep and hair sticking up at odd angles, not taking time to do more than pull on clothes haphazardly, Eric assumed command. "Ray, explain what is going on."

Ray related Naima's call to the those gathered and finished, "I'm waiting for her to call back."

Blackburn nodded. "Your identities may have been burned. Jason, what do you want to do?"

Halting, Jason drew in a breath. "I don't want to instill fear in our families unless it is warranted. Reacting impulsively might cause more harm than good."

"So, you want us to sit idle indefinitely?" Sonny responded, feeling impotent and wanting to blow away all of Doza's suspected hiding places. Inaction didn't sit well with him. No one messed with Bravo team's families and went unscathed.

"Not indefinitely, only until we receive actionable intel," Jason stated. He turned to Mandy. "Get your IT guys up and get them in here. Impress on them the need to do more than a half-assed job."

Incensed by Jason continually impugning of her work and that of her colleagues, she bit back. "I'm not the one who told Sonny to take Clay outside the wire and get him drunk. You are not infallible, Hayes. We are not incompetent. We're doing the best we can—"

Playing peacemaker, an aspect of his job that was used quite often ever since he took over commanding Hayes, Eric interrupted Ellis, "No one is questioning your integrity. Infiltrating the drug cartel and locating a man who has operated with impunity for over a decade is no easy task. Otherwise, the Mexican authorities wouldn't have sought out the best-damned team to assist them."

Setting both hands on the table, Eric leaned forward, his expression stern. "This infighting and insulting one another stops now. We can't continue this way, or someone else is gonna end up injured or possibly dead. And I can say without a doubt, none of you want that to occur."

Eric's deep inhalation was heard as the room went silent. "We ALL are invested in taking down Doza. This is no longer only about a DEA agent. The bastard went after one of our own, and we WILL get payback."

He waited until he received a nod from each one. "Mandy, we do need the IT guy in here now to scrub the internet again. We must proactively ensure the team's identities and their families are secure while we wait for Ray's wife to call back. Meanwhile, the rest of you … grab some coffee. It's gonna be a long night."

* * *

_**Stella's Apartment** _

After knocking, Naima took in the scene when Trish opened the door to Stella's place. A distraught Stella sat tucked into the corner of her sofa, legs pulled close to her chest, eyes red-rimmed, and a tissue gripped in a white-knuckled fist. "Thanks for coming so fast, Trish. I would've been here sooner, but didn't want to drag the kids out in the middle of the night."

"No worries. She is torn apart by the picture she insists is Clay. I didn't look at it … her friend Ivy said it is disturbing." Trish shut the door, and they both moved toward Stella. "Hey, Stella, Naima is here."

Ivy rose from her place next to Stella. "Hi, I'm Ivy. Would you like a cup of tea? I've got the pot on to make some Camille for Stella."

"Please." Naima took a seat beside Stella and placed a hand on her shoulder. "I called Ray."

Stella's bloodshot, watery eyes moved from staring at the closed laptop to Naima. She waited to hear Clay was dead and a hiccuping sob escaped along with a tear.

"Oh, honey. He's not dead. He's injured but being taken care of right now."

Stella's body shook as she started crying again. Naima pulled her close and patted her back. After several minutes Stella pulled back. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. Ray wouldn't lie." Naima handed Stella another tissue.

"How bad? When will he be coming home?" Stella realized Trish and Naima must not know she ended things with Clay since they were treating her so kindly, and she chose not to inform them because she needed to know how Clay fared.

"Ray didn't share the details, so I'm unsure. However, the team needs to know who sent you the photo. Can you tell me?"

Inhaling shakily, Stella nodded. "From someone who I thought was a friend. Frank Isaksson works in the political science department at the university, and I met him about eighteen months ago. He is a bit idiosyncratic, anti-military, and never made it a secret he didn't like Clay, but I never thought Frank would be so incredibly cruel."

Wiping her eyes again, rage ignited in the pit of her stomach. "In Frank's email, he had the nerve to call Clay an immature boy and say when I wanted a real man to call him. The idiot doesn't have any concept of what a real man is."

Naima grinned. "Insensitive boars come in all shapes and sizes. Excuse me a moment while I go call Ray." She rose and stepped down the hall for a little privacy.

Ivy returned with the teacups on a tray and set it on the table. "I can't believe Frank did this." She handed a cup to Stella.

"Morgan gave me a heads up. I shouldn't have opened the image." Stella took a sip.

Trish seethed quietly. She would be telling Derek the name of the inconsiderate idiot and Alpha team would likely be paying this Isaksson a little visit.  _No one messes with our extended SEAL family without repercussions._

Feeling a little more in control, Stella peered at Trish. "Thank you for coming over. I'm fine now … I don't want to keep you from your home."

Taking a seat, Trish dropped a sugar cube into her tea and stirred. "Not going anywhere. Family sticks together. This is what we do. We support one another when things go sideways."

"But Clay and I aren't even married … how am I, family?" Stella gaped at Trish.

"Doesn't matter. You are important to Clay. He loves you. I can see it in his lovesick, puppy eyes every time he gazes at you. He's over the moon for you, and that is what makes you family."

Stella felt like an impostor … an interloper … she didn't deserve their kindness after how she left things with Clay. If Trish and Naima found out, they would surely hate her and become indignant she failed to tell them she broke Clay's heart.

Conflicting emotions swirled as an internal war raged.  _I can't live with Clay always being in danger … but I don't want to live without him either._

* * *

_**Mexican Marine Headquarters – TOC** _

Ray hung up and turned to the others who peered at him with a mix of anticipation and barely veiled anger … he just didn't know if it was directed at Doza or Stella since they all were pissed off at Stella's timing for dumping the kid. "One of the professors at the university sent it to her. Frank Isaksson."

Jason's brows knitted together. "Isn't that one of the guys who cowered in the bathroom at the Farris Gallery?"

Sonny smirked. "Yeah, he's the asshole who wouldn't give Clay his tie to gag the criminal. Clay said Frank about pissed himself when the kid demanded the tie."

"Why in the hell did he send that to her?" Brock plopped into a chair and scratched Cerberus' ears.

"I'm more interested in where he found the damned thing." Trent pushed off the wall and began pacing as he shifted his gaze to the IT guy.

"What are we gonna do about this? He can't get away with doing something so crappy," Lisa said even though she was still angry with Stella.

"Um … excuse me …" Lester dared to interrupt the team. Their heated glares unnerved him.

Everyone turned to the information tech and Jason said, "What?"

"I found the site where the photo is posted. It's on a darknet site. They must've gotten the image from another source and then uploaded after I scrubbed it from all the other sites."

Mandy moved to the computer. "Show me which site."

Lester tapped several keys and loaded the page.

Her face became impassive as the implications ran in her head. "I need to make a call. People don't just happen onto this site. The IIB uses it for recruiting westerners who have been vetted by one of their members."

"How do you know? And what is IIB?" Jason inquired.

"The International Islamic Brotherhood. They are a newer group who follow most the tenants of ISIS, but they are more covert and seek to infiltrate western countries and destroy them from within by gaining political power rather blowing up buildings. It is much more insidious and less visible. Changes are made slower … countries will be like frogs who jump into cold water and as the temperature rises don't realize they are boiling to death until it is too late.

"A colleague was working on a target package and needed my help with a few things. She was looking into recruiters who are using universities around the country as a prime hunting ground for impressionable youth who can be indoctrinated."

Mandy pulled out her phone and dialed, knowing she would be waking Izza Alvi, but at this point, she didn't care. When Izza answered she briefly laid out the situation, asked a few questions, but mostly listened. Her face morphed into disbelief as Izza continued to speak.

Hanging up, she faced the guys. "As incredible as this sounds … Professor Isaksson is on Izza's list of possible recruiters. A low man in the organization but is suspected to be responsible for enlisting over a dozen people who have already been brought in for interrogation."

"Will she be rounding him up? If so … I'm certain Alpha Team would be willing to help," Eric said.

"Izza is going to call me back in a few hours after she checks on a few items. I'll make the suggestion."

Ray listened and then said, "So this isn't related to Doza … our identities have not been compromised, and our families are safe?"

"Appears that way," Mandy replied.

Jason exhaled heavily as his worry for his children lessened slightly. Though, until they took down Doza for good, he wouldn't rest easy.

"Alright. Well, I believe everyone can go back to bed. We'll reconvene tomorrow and refocus on Doza," Eric suggested.

Nodding Jason agreed. It wouldn't do for his men to be overtired … as it was, they were stressed by Clay's condition and the kid would need them refreshed tomorrow when he started asking questions.

The group broke up, most seeking their beds, but Jason stopped Lisa as she turned to head to the area set up as the infirmary. "I'll stay the rest of the night with Spenser."

Understanding arguing with Hayes would be fruitless, Lisa gave him a nod and changed direction.

Ray halted. "You need sleep too, J."

"The recliner will do for me tonight." Jason leaned his back on the wall. "Did you tell Naima they broke up or that Clay doesn't remember the past year or so?"

"No. From Naima's description Stella is in terrible shape, so she and Trish are going to stay the night with her. We don't know if Clay will wake tomorrow and recall everything, so I didn't believe it would benefit anyone by relaying that information."

"Agreed." Yawning, Jason pushed off the wall. "If Isaksson isn't part of IIB, we're gonna pay him a visit when we get home. What he did is indefensible and immoral on so many levels."

Ray grinned. "I hear ya, brother and concur. A bit of unit justice is in order." He stood in place and watched as Jason headed for the kid's room, noting the weight of the world on his friend's shoulders.


	8. Losing A Year

**_Mexican Marine Headquarters – Infirmary_ **

Sunlight streamed in the east window, shifting as the sun rose higher in the sky, illuminating Clay's face causing him to stir. He no longer felt cold, but his entire body ached, especially his arm and abdomen. After inhaling deeply, wincing as his chest resisted, he blinked open his eyes, squinted, and turned his head in the opposite direction to avoid the brightness.

His gaze landed on the figure in the recliner.  _Why is the illustrious Master Chief Hayes sleeping in my room?_  Glancing down, he noted his left arm in a cast and racked his brain as to how it happened, but came up empty. He shifted, needing to relieve the pressure on his back and moaned as his right hand moved to his gut.

Pushing down the light blanket and pulling up the hospital gown, his eyes rounded in surprise to find he was nude except for the gown, catheterized, and there was a long incision held together with a long row of black, precisely-tied knots just below his ribcage. When his door opened, Clay yanked the covers up, the move causing pain, but avoiding embarrassment when a vaguely familiar woman entered.

Lisa grinned as she averted her eyes while he tugged up the sheet, happy to discover Clay awake and to find out from his nurse that his fever broke in the wee hours of the morning. "Good morning, Clay." The confusion in his blue eyes reminded her that Clay didn't remember the past year and the friendship they developed, which dimmed her smile.

Perplexed, Clay's eyes moved between Hayes and Davis. His mouth cottony, he attempted to speak, his words came out raspy and haltingly through his irritated throat. "Why … are … you … here?"

Rousing when Lisa greeted Clay, Jason moved the lever to lower the leg rest of the recliner and sat up. He spoke when Lisa turned her eyes to him, communicating she was unsure what to say. "Are you in Virginia?"

Focusing on Hayes, Clay nodded. "Why … keep … asking?"

Lisa moved to the bedside table and picked up the cup. "I'll go grab some ice chips … will help your throat." She hurried out of the room, intent on giving Jason time alone with Clay now that he seemed more coherent.

Jason remained silent for some time as he weighed his words, also uncertain how to proceed. He raked a hand through his hair and was saved from saying anything more when Shelia entered carrying a styrofoam cup and went directly to Clay's bed.

"Well, lookie who is awake and not feverish. Ice will soothe your throat. I'm Shelia, your day nurse." She spooned in a small amount, and as it melted, she turned to Jason. "If you would step out for a moment, I need to examine his wound."

"I'll wait outside. Holler if you need me to come in." Jason pulled out his phone as he exited, intending to call Ray. He wanted to let the others know Clay woke again and the fever broke, happy to impart positive news for once, but he found he didn't need to as he spotted Sonny leading the others down the hall. He grinned … reinforcements … together they would tackle telling Clay about the gap in his memory.

Inside the room, Clay asked, "Can … you … remove … catheter?"

After gloving up, Shelia moved the thin blanket down, maintaining his dignity as she noted the hiked-up gown. Shelia inspected his wound for any infectious seepage and inflammation, smiling when she found none. She lowered the fabric, covering his abdomen. "One of the reasons I asked your buddy to leave the room. You can begin using the urinal until you have the strength to make it to the restroom."

Clay clenched his jaw when the nurse deftly removed the tubing from his sensitive body part. The stinging lasted only a couple of moments, and by the time he recovered his breath, Shelia had covered him up again and strode towards the adjoining toilet room to dump the contents and discard the bag and tubing.

Exiting the bathroom, Shelia called out, "You can come back in."

Clay's mouth gaped as the door opened and not only Hayes but the four remaining members of Bravo team entered his room.  _Why are they here? What is going on? Where is Brian?_  Hayes cut off his thoughts.

Jason stepped to the bed. "You have questions. We have answers."

Clay nodded, since speaking still hurt, but so did his entire body.

Placing a pillow across Clay's midsection, Shelia said, "I'm going to elevate the head of your bed. Hold this close and tell me if you hurt too much."

As the angle in which his body folded increased, so did his pain level, and Clay attempted to hold in his groan.

"Stop. He's in pain. The kid is hiding it again. He needs more painkillers before you move him any further," Trent said as he stepped forward.

Shelia released the button, immobilizing the bed and stared at Trent. "Are you certain?"

Trent snorted. "Yes. I know how to read his signs."

Slack-mouthed, Clay stared at Trent.  _How did he know? What signs?_

"What is your pain level?" Shelia asked.

"Don't lie to her, Kid." Trent crossed his arms and cocked an eye at Spenser.

"Five," Clay downplayed.

"Spenser?" Trent challenged.

"That there is a tall tale, Goldilocks. Betcha it is more like seven," Sonny drawled.

"Eight is more likely," Jason added.

"Could be as high as nine," Brock ventured.

"I'm with Jace on this one. Eight sounds about right," Ray chimed in.

"Agreed. Shelia, dose him for eight. No sense the kid should be in agony," Trent directed.

Clay's eyes darted to each man as they spoke.  _How the hell do they know it is eight. And why are they talking like they know me? What's up with them calling me Kid and Goldilocks?_

Shelia nodded and left the room to obtain the medication. She had learned from Dr. Irving to listen to Trent. The team medic was held in high esteem by the doctor, and Irving often consulted Trent regarding Clay's reactions. She also discovered him to be a staunch advocate for the young man, and while Spenser had been hallucinating with fever, a gentle man who tenderly cared for his teammate.

As Clay opened his mouth to comment, Jason shook his head and declared, "We'll wait until your meds are on board."

"Won't he be too muddled?" Sonny queried.

"No." Trent pulled a chair around and took a seat.

"You sure? He doesn't do too well on pain meds." Sonny shifted to the sink in search of the emesis basin just in case the kid reacted. They never knew if he would puke, become confused, hallucinate, or sleep when taking medication.

"Doc and I adjusted the dosage over the past few days. Believe we have it worked out now. He should be fine … at least for a half hour or so." Trent eyed the monitors getting a baseline. He promised Jason to keep close watch of the vital signs so they could stop if their explanation increased the stress on Clay's weakened body.

Clay narrowed his eyes to a slit as they continued to talk as if he were not right in front of them and as if they knew him well … which they couldn't. He only rolled with Bravo for one op and believed Hayes would beat the crap out of him after he schwacked Samir. An insidious thought entered his head as his focus shifted to his stomach and then to his busted arm.  _Perhaps they did beat the shit out of me … some sort of delayed retribution._

Now leery, Clay glanced around the room and noted it didn't appear to be a regular hospital room … like it was cobbled together in a hurry. It had no earmarks of being a base hospital. At least not on any base he had ever visited.  _They keep asking if I'm in Virginia. Why? Maybe I'm not. If not, where the hell am I? I wish Brian were here … wherever_ here _is._

Shelia returned and administered the medication. "This will take the edge off. Let's keep you at this angle for a bit, and a little later we will try sitting up fully. If you tolerate that, we'll see about trying standing for a few moments."

Clay focused on the nurse as she spoke. "Where … am … I?"

Smiling at Clay, Shelia responded, "I'll be back to check on you in a while." Her gaze flicked to Hayes. Dr. Irving said to allow this team to answer all of her patient's questions.

Catching the direction of her eyes, Clay turned to Hayes, becoming a bit irritated no one answered his questions. "Where?"

As the nurse slipped out, Jason said, "You're in Mexico City."

Clay's eyes widened. "Why?"

Running a hand along his jaw to the back of his neck, Jason decided to bite the bullet and tell Spenser. As team leader the duty fell to him. "This will be hard for you to comprehend, but I'm gonna tell you outright what is going on. Listen without interrupting, and after I'm done, you can ask anything you want, and we'll do our best to answer you."

The men of Bravo all encircled the bed, this would be incredibly difficult for Clay, and they all wanted to be close to show their brotherly support for their youngest team member.

"First off, you are a member of Bravo." Jason expected the puzzlement expressed in Clay's features and forged ahead. "You have been for a little over a year now. You were injured, quite severely, I'll let Trent give you the lowdown in a bit, but suffice for now, you fell two stories and struck your head.

"It appears you have lost memories of the last year. The doc is unable to determine if your amnesia is temporary or permanent, but I want you to understand without a doubt we are your brothers whether you remember us or not. We will be here for you as you recover. You are family … and we take care of our own."

Jason paused to allow Clay to digest the information.

Clay's head shook back and forth as he rejected what Hayes said.  _This is implausible. I'm not on Bravo team and I didn't lose a year._  Clay glanced at his arm, then to the pillow covering his belly before returning to Hayes. "This … is a … hoax or … part … of … my … SERE … evolution."

"Not part of your training evolution. You graduated in a three-way tie for first place. Bravo had first pick, and we chose you." Jason held Spenser's direct gaze.

His throat screaming with every word spoken, Clay only said, "Brian?" The fleeting inscrutable emotion crossing Hayes' face caused Clay's gut to roll as he forced out, "Where … is … Brian?"

Ray laid a hand on Clay's shoulder, taking over for Jason. "He's gone."

Not understanding, Clay swallowed trying to wet his fiery throat as his blue eyes shifted to Senior Chief Perry. "Where?"

Deciding a simple, direct statement would be best, Ray said, "I'm sorry to tell you this, brother, but Brian died in a training accident about a month after you rolled with us while you were in Green Team. His chute didn't open."

Slammed hard by the intel, Clay's heart rate increased as he inhaled sharply and too deeply. Pain seared his chest, and he couldn't discern if it was physical or emotional pain … likely both. The agony caused him to pant too fast.

Ray squeezed lightly. "Slow it down … sniper breathing." Ray demonstrated, inhaling, holding, and exhaling to help Spenser calm his rapid breaths and speeding pulse rate.

Clay's eyes shut as he accepted the truth of what Hayes and Perry imparted.  _No one would be cruel enough to invent something like this, and my wounds are real … not something which would be allowed to happen during an instruction cycle._

Venturing to reopen his eyes, Clay scanned the men around him, noting apprehension in their expressions. He began to wonder what type of relationship he developed with each of them in the past year. Insecurity grew, and he felt at a disadvantage.  _They know me, seemingly well enough to realize when I attempted to hide my pain, but I don't know them. They are strangers to me._

"Ice?" Wanting to ask a long question, Clay needed to quench the flames in his throat before endeavoring to communicate.

Trent nodded to Brock who stood closest to the cup. "Only one spoonful for now."

Brock complied, offering his brother a small relief from what must be a painful effort each time he spoke. His eyes landed on the still raw spots where the hemp noose abraded Clay's skin. "Better?"

Clay's head swam with an influx of inquiries as the icy liquid doused the fire, at least long enough for him to say, "Yeah, … why am I … in Mexico … and … what … happened?"

Jason gave Clay a straightforward explanation of why Bravo came to Mexico. After witnessing the lowering of Clay's eyelids, Jason planned to stop with the pertinent details, what they had done thus far in their ineffectual attempt to capture Doza to shut down his illegal activities, including how things went sideways in Hércules and how Clay saved their asses with his imaginative solution, but Sonny interrupted.

"Your injuries are my fault," Sonny blurted out, anxiety and guilt weighing heavily on his soul.

The impact of the impassioned exclamation caused Clay's brows to rise as he zeroed in on the implacable pipehitter.

"Sonny—" Jason began, but Sonny cut him off.

"Okay, our fault." Sonny peered at Clay, wanting to get this out in the open. "I failed you. I should've used my head … didn't … and you nearly died. I took you to a local bar, let you become too intoxicated, and didn't stop Doza's men from abducting us, beating the shit out of you, or prevent the sick bastard Gonzales from impaling you with the fucking hook and putting a noose around your neck. Ray saved your life … shot the rope, splitting it in two before it snapped your neck, but you fell two stories and suffered a head injury in addition to the other injuries."

Clay's face scrunched up as he listened and his right hand went to his stomach.  _Drunk? Taken? Impaled?_  His hand moved to his burning throat.  _Almost hung?_  The scenario sounded inconceivable … top tier operators didn't get abducted or shitfaced during a mission. He checked the veracity of Sonny's words by studying the other guys. He stopped on Hayes. "True?"

"Not entirely. The blame ultimately lies with me. Sonny only took you outside the wire based on my instructions. Alana's and Adam's deaths affected my judgment on this op."

Though the imperturbable and infallible Jason Hayes just admitted to making an error, as inconceivable as that seemed to Clay, his mind fixated on the mention of two more deaths. He didn't know who Alana was, but he knew one Adam … Master Chief Seaver. "Alana? Adam?" Clay croaked out.

A flash of pain surged through Jason at Alana's name … her loss still so raw. He also worried he might spark renewed guilt and grief in Clay when he explained Adam's death. He decided to gloss over the details and only give an abbreviated version. "My wife, Alana, died in a car accident. During her funeral, we were spun up for a rescue op in Mumbai. I stood down, and Adam stepped in for me. He didn't make it home … made the ultimate sacrifice to save the team from an s-vest."

Jason halted as Clay's breath hitched, he paled, and his pulse jumped up which impelled Ray to guide the kid through breathing once again.  _Damn, I hate hurting the kid. How is the news about Stella going to impact him?_

Trent caught Jason's gaze and his tone impressed on everyone that Clay had reached his physical limit for today. "That's enough for now. The rest can wait."

The cause indeterminate, a deep-seated sense of guilt bloomed and squeezed Clay's chest making breathing an imposing task. Zapped of the little energy he possessed, his eyes flickered closed several times. As Clay internalized that he lost not only his best friend, but also his mentor, a year of his life, and he might be permanently incapacitated, many questions rolled around in his head. The last one before a drug-induced sleep claimed him was …  _why would Hayes and Quinn allow me to be inebriated to the point of being incapacitated on such an important mission?_

Noting the change in respiration and lax body as Clay's head lolled to the side and hand slipped to the mattress, Trent lowered the bed to make the kid more comfortable while sleeping. Amazed Clay remained awake for as long as he did, Trent stated the obvious. "He's out."

"The kid seemed to take it all in." Ray removed his hand from Clay's shoulder.

"We skirted the Stella issue," Brock interjected, wondering if he should've brought Cerberus with him this morning. His dog established an indelible connection with Clay after the two bonded over bullets.

"He had enough shocks for now. Brian's and Adam's deaths both hit him hard." Jason blew out a breath as he recalled how Clay had pushed them all away and internalized his grief after Mumbai.

They all nodded as Trent said, "The kid is gonna sleep for a few hours at least. Time for everyone to grab breakfast."

Sonny moved to the chair. "No. I'm staying here."

"You need to eat," Jason stated.

"Then bring me something back, because I'm NOT leaving Boy Wonder. If he wakes, he needs a friendly face." Sonny sat, and his expression implied they would have a fight on their hands if anyone tried to make him leave.

To lighten the moment, because inappropriate humor and laughter, especially during the worst times, was an effective weapon to shield themselves from the crippling anxiety that came with combat, deployments, and intense situations such as this, Ray joked, "Your ugly mug isn't what I'd call friendly."

The guys chuckled as Sonny scowled and retorted, "I'll have you know … this face," he waved his hand around his face, "is idolized and coveted by many women."

Brock smirked. "So long as you are shoving bills in their G-strings."

The guys devolved into an irreverent razzing session until Shelia returned to do vitals check on Clay and everyone except Sonny headed out to the cantina to eat.

* * *

_**Two** **Days Later  
Mexican Marine Headquarters – Infirmary** _

Clay leaned heavily on Sonny, allowing the man to take most of his weight, unsure if he could make it back to bed. The ten steps to the bathroom already exhausted him, and if he could, he would lie down right here on the floor to sleep. But he couldn't so he took another laborious step forward as he pressed the pillow to his belly with his non-casted arm since the broken wing was in a sling and useless.

"You got this. Only three more to go," Sonny encouraged. The kid was a trooper, never complaining about the breathing or leg exercises the nurses incessantly harped on him doing. Blowing the little metal ball up in the spirometer, doing the inhalation and exhalation exercises caused the kid pain but was necessary to improve his lung function. Likewise, the short walks and the leg flexes were important to prevent blood clots and reduce inflammation in his lower extremities.

Clay grimaced, coming to a halt as his abdomen spasmed causing him to bend over. He would've face planted without Quinn's strong grip on his elbow and Trent holding him up from behind with a special gait belt positioned low on his hips to prevent putting stress on his incision.

"Inhale. Hold, one, two, three. Exhale," Ray chanted to Clay from across the room … something he had done a lot of in the past forty-eight hours.

On empty, unable to go further, his knees buckling, Clay moaned, but he never hit the ground as Jason appeared in front of him and slid his hands around him, essentially hugging him and keeping him upright. "Got you, Kid. Not gonna let you fall."

Cerberus whined, but stayed put … he didn't want to be a trip hazard, though he wanted to be close to his boy. The last two nights he got to sleep at the foot of Clay's bed, preferring it to his pad in their hooch.

Brock patted Cerb. "Good boy. Clay will be back in bed soon, and you can join him again."

Cerb wagged his tail and laid down to wait … impatiently.

With the assistance of Jason, Trent, and Sonny, Clay attained his bed, rested his head on a pillow, moaned as he shifted his butt to the middle of the mattress, and allowed Ray to toss the covers over his bare legs. At least now he wore a loose pair of lightweight shorts under his indigo blue hospital gown.

Clay closed his eyes and sighed, irritated at his inability to move on his own and wishing for independence, but that day was still somewhere in the future. He listened as the idle chatter around him touched on a myriad of topics. He appreciated their help, but also the way they treated him … not like an invalid.

He thought about the last two days. He had been in and out a lot, sleeping for a few hours then waking for a short interval. Every time he woke, at least one if not two or three of the team were in his room. When he was conscious, they answered all inquiries he put to them … well, almost all.

One question which no one would answer is why he was allowed to get drunk in the first place. Each time he brought it up, the subject changed, or someone recalled an errand to be run, or pretended they received a text or call and stepped from the room. It was becoming increasingly frustrating not to know why.

The closest he got to an answer was from Jason when he said,  _'Not the best way to handle things, but I wanted Sonny to loosen your tongue so you would tell him what was bugging you since we arrived in Mexico.'_  Hayes didn't elaborate, and Sonny only shook his head when he asked if he told him that night.

Not knowing intrigued him … he wondered what could've been in his mind to make his team leader suggest to another teammate to ply him with alcohol to get him intoxicated so he would open up. As far as he could recall, he had never been distracted on an operation before … so this would be a first. Clay wished he could remember what was so important he created an issue for the entire team. And he felt the weight on his shoulders. Whatever it was, that one night of imbibing excessive spirits impacted his whole team.

Being a member of Bravo still left him in awe. They invested in him, and apparently from all the stories they shared with him, he fit in and bonded with them. He had a family … something he found reduced his insecurity in the dark of night.

The bright voice of his nurse, a five-foot-four, brown-haired, brown-eyed, ivory-skinned beauty intruded on his ruminations as she greeted everyone in his room. Grinning as he opened his eyes, speaking no longer causing him pain, Clay said, "Morning, Stella."

Shelia blanched. She caught the whispers from the guys in the hallway and understood who Stella was … an ignorant woman who dumped this impressive man. Recovering, she said, "Name's Shelia, but I forgive you for forgetting." She moved her hand from behind her back. "Even brought you a little treat. Doc says you can start on clear liquids today." She placed the half cup of clarified chicken broth on the table within Clay's reach.

Clay stared at her.  _I know her name is Shelia … why did I call her Stella?_  He squeezed his eyes shut as a wave of nausea overtook him. He gagged, and although he didn't see them, at least three sets of hands moved to assist him. Shelia likely held the emesis basin, Trent helped hold his pillow across his abdomen to keep him from pulling his sutures out, and either Sonny or Jason braced his shoulders … a process repeated several times in the past days.

His head pounded as he dry-heaved, only a little bile coming up since he only consumed ice chips. Once he finished, a cool rag wiped his face and neck … he never opened his lids to determine which one of the guys did that, but suspected the hands either belonged to Jason or Trent.

Flashes of a woman's face came to him. She possessed brown hair and eyes but didn't appear similar to Shelia. She smiled and laughed in one moment, and the next her eyes filled with tears, and she sobbed. Slowly opening his eyes, finding Trent with the cloth, Clay exhaled heavily, reaching for any memory from his past year. "Do I know someone named Stella? There is … I can't describe … an image … a gut feeling … like she might be important to me."

Sonny dropped his eyes to the floor.

Brock shifted his gaze to the window.

Ray peered up at the dingy ceiling tiles.

Trent's hand stilled as he wrung out the washrag.

Cerberus hopped up on the foot of the bed … sensing his boy would need him, and laid his head on Clay's right thigh.

Jason sighed and met Clay's inquisitive gaze. No longer able to put off the inevitable, their idyllic Indian Summer just ended, and the icy chill of winter descended in the room.  _Damn, I wish the kid was stronger before he asked. I don't want to rip out his heart. The period we insulated him is over, and I hope this doesn't break him._


	9. Who Jilted Who?

**_Mexican Marine Headquarters - Infirmary_ **

Jason wanted to break it easy to the kid, but no matter how he said it, learning about Stella would hurt Clay, so he got right to the point. "Stella was your girlfriend. You two broke up right before coming to Mexico."

Clay scrunched his face, trying to remember, but came up blank. "Who jilted who?"

_Just like the kid to go right to the jugular of the matter._  Jason raked a hand through his hair. "She broke up with you."

His mind piecing other details together the guys shared with him, Clay turned his eyes to Sonny … a man who he perceived carried guilt about what happened to him. He tested his suspicion with a statement. "We went out drinking because of me. I'm the one to blame for what occurred."

Sonny stood and met Clay's gaze. "Now hold your horses there, little jocky. That ain't the whole truth. This isn't on you. Yeah sure, you was hurtin and wantin to drown your sorrows … but I shouldn't have let you drink so much nor taken you outside the wire. You could've gotten juiced up right here."

Jason shook his head. "The fault lies with me. I made a bad judgment call and asked Sonny to take you out because you were down in the dumps and not opening up to us."

Switching his eyes to Jason, Clay couldn't believe the confession coming from the infamous Hayes. "You told Sonny to get me drunk and put our lives at risk?"

The disbelief and condemnation in Clay's eyes burned a hole in Jason. "Yes. Not my smartest move. I'm sorry … you deserved better from me."

Ray eyed Spenser, studying him, somewhat concerned about his reaction to the news of Stella … or rather lack of reaction. The kid seemed more upset by Jason's decision than the fact Stella dumped him. But then he realized Clay didn't possess the memories of his heartache and must be unsettled Jason made such a terrible judgment and jeopardized his safety by sending him out unprotected just to get him to talk.

Clay turned his gaze to the window as he juggled conflicting thoughts. Not truly knowing them … only what they told him, Clay couldn't decide whether the apology was sincere and what would possess his leader to put him at such a risk. He wished Brian and Adam were alive so he could talk to someone he actually remembered and trusted. He muttered under his breath, "This sucks."

"Big time," Brock said having overheard Clay. He rose and moved into the kid's line of vision. "Just know, we are here for you. We've all had a rough year … but in the end … we've all come to rely more on our brothers. Give us time to re-earn your trust. We won't fail you again."

Clay studied the tall man with curly black hair as his hand sought out the head of Cerberus who inched up further on his bed. Brock rarely talked, usually letting the others explain things to him. But the dog … Cerberus … belonged to him, and dogs were a good judge of character and Brock treated the pup well. Not sure what to say, Clay gave him a slight nod.

Mandy stuck her head in the room. "Jason, we have a potential lead on Doza's whereabouts, but we need to act fast."

Hating to leave the kid at the moment, wanting to ensure they were still good, or at least he had a chance of regaining his trust, but desiring to get the bastard who ordered the hit on Spenser, he responded to Ellis, "Be right there."

Placing a hand on Clay's shoulder, noting he jerked slightly, Jason said, "We'll talk more later." He pivoted and headed out when Clay didn't acknowledge him. As much as this disconcerted him, Jason put it on the back burner, needing to focus on getting Doza.

Brock peered at Cerberus. "Stay." Shifting his gaze to Clay he grinned. "Don't know why I just told him that … he'd rather be with you than me lately. Catch you later." He strode out after Jason.

Sonny glanced at Ray, wishing he could go with them, but he was still grounded. After the 2IC said bye to Clay, Sonny said, "Get payback for us."

"You got it." Ray jogged out after patting Sonny's shoulder.

Trent set the damp cloth down which he had been holding all this time, it was now twisted tight. He didn't like the tension which built after the turn of events of telling the kid about Stella. None of them had foreseen this outcome. All they had focused on was Clay being hurt by Stella's actions … not creating doubt in Clay regarding their leader.

He directed his comment to Sonny. "Make sure he tries the broth and if he can keep it down, see if you can round up some jello if Clay wants something more."

Sonny nodded as Trent left. With only him, Clay, and Cerb in the room, Sonny sighed before he broached the elephant in the room. "Jason's only human, though people tend to put him on a pedestal. I'd follow him any day and twice on Sunday. Alana's death jumbled him up but good. Both you and he came into this mission not quite on point. Don't think we told you, but they knew each other since they were kids. Alana saved him from drowning." He chuckled. "Funny Jace became a SEAL."

His countenance changed, becoming somber. "Jason's world was totally rocked when she died. We were spun up at Alana's funeral which is why Adam stepped up to lead on the Mumbai mission. Jason carries the weight of guilt for that one too though we all believe he did the right thing in standing down. His kids needed him."

Shifting gears again, Sonny said, "You don't recall, but after Echo team was killed, Jason wouldn't rest until he got justice for them. The same is true now. Doza will rue the day he put a hit out on you and posted the photo of you hanging from the hook on the internet.

"We might not be too happy with Stella right now for ripping your heart out, but no one hurts anyone in our family. Her seeing that damned picture sent her for a loop according to Naima. Jason will not rest until Doza is brought to justice for what he did to you and to Stella."

Clay turned to gape at Sonny. So much new information in Sonny's monolog, he didn't know what to address first. Sheila entering saved him from having to choose as she approached him and lifted the cup of soup.

"Do you think you can stomach a bit of this?" Sheila smiled and moved the soup closer.

"I'll try." Clay allowed Sheila to do all the work, moving his joints to feed himself seemed impossible at the moment. As the warm liquid slid down his throat, he hoped his gut wouldn't revolt and attempt to expel the broth.

Twenty minutes later, his eyelids sagging and the cup empty, Clay rested his head on the pillow and yawned. Unable to resist the pull of sleep, he drifted off without ever speaking to Sonny about what he learned.

* * *

_**Virginia – University – Lecture Hall** _

Frank Isaksson jumped off the corner of the desk he was sitting on as he gave his lecture, startled as six soldiers in full tactical gear and carrying assault weapons burst into his classroom and headed down two ramps towards him.

John Maverick, known as Full Metal and Alpha One, bellowed, "Everyone stay in your seats and keep your hands visible. Professor Isaksson, hands where we can see them."

"What the hell is the meaning of this? We are not a police state. You have no jurisdiction … no right to barge into my class and demand anything," Frank shouted.

Following the SEALs into the room, Sergeant James Fox of the local SWAT team, said, "They do." He recalled this man as one of the two men who hid in the bathroom during the heist at the Farris Gallery. He got a bad vibe off the jerk back then but only believed he was a coward. Finding out he was wanted for recruiting students to the terrorist cell called the International Islam Brotherhood, angered James, especially after Isaksson bad-mouthed Clay Spenser, the man who saved everyone that night.

The students stared wide-eyed at the soldiers and the plethora of police officers and FBI agents invading their space.

Derek, Alpha Two, moved in close to Frank, a sneer coming to his face. He liked Stella, even though the young woman hurt Clay, His wife Trish, explained to him how hard it was for those who stay behind and worry about the men they loved … and Stella was frightened and unsure she could hack a life of wondering if the man she loved would return. Not many women possessed the fortitude to live with a constant anvil over their heads, ready to destroy them.

Grabbing one wrist, Derek jerked Isaksson around while his teammates covered him. "You're under arrest. I do hope you try to resist. I'd love to knock you on your ass for what you sent to Stella." Pulling the other arm behind Frank's back, he slipped on the zip-tie cuffs when the man cooperated, but yanked them painfully taut.

"OW! Brutality. I didn't resist. What are the charges?" Frank demanded.

"Domestic terrorism," John stated. He nodded to his men, and they hustled Isaksson out as the SWAT sergeant addressed the students.

James said, "Please remain in your seats and quiet. Officers will be escorting you one-by-one to agents who will interview you before you are released."


	10. Ambushed

_**Eight Weeks Later  
Mexican Marine Headquarters - TOC** _

Weeks dragged by, and every time they believed they had a bead on Doza, he slipped away. Jason became frustrated being away from his kids so long. Captain Harrington had said they would stay in Mexico until they got Doza, but Jason never imagined every opportunity to snag the guy would go sideways.

The more he contemplated the situation, the more he believed they must have a mole in their midst … because quite frankly, Doza couldn't be this damned lucky. He blew out a breath and raked both hands through his hair.

Jason surveyed his joyless team. The only bright spot was Spenser had recovered remarkably fast. This morning, Doctor Irving signed off on Clay joining them for the next op … and Trent concurred. After a small setback, a bout of jaundice seven weeks ago, Clay's physical health improved by leaps and bounds.

Not everything went the kid's way. Clay still had not recovered any of his memories on his own. The past year remained a blank slate for the kid. The only thing positive about that is the kid didn't pine for Stella. In fact, he had flirted outrageously with Nurse Sheila, flashing his boyish smile and bright blues at her every opportunity he got. When Sheila left, they all witnessed the two of them engaged in a serious lip lock, and Sheila told Clay to call her when he returned.

Sometimes, Jason had the juvenile thought that he wished Stella could witness the kid kissing the cute nurse and she would become jealous and give Clay a second chance. But reality sunk in and he understood more on the situation after Ray shared what Naima told him.

Stella and the entire university faculty had been shocked by Isaksson's involvement with the IIB. It was Stella opening the email which sealed the ability to get the arrest warrant. The FBI also netted three students who had been recently recruited by him. Naima also revealed Stella came over to her home several times, asking about Clay … since Clay never bothered to contact her.

Each time Stella visited Naima, she teared up … and Naima said the woman loved Clay deeply, but still couldn't reconcile living her life waiting to find out if he would come home from a mission. Unfortunately, Jason understood what Stella was feeling … Alana struggled with the same issues, and that is part of the reason she left him.

As Clay joined them at the table, sitting in the only open chair, which happened to be next to him, Jason stifled a sigh as Clay crossed his arms and scooted the chair back and away from him. The only part about Spenser which still bothered him was the kid appeared to have lost trust him in. Understandable, since he was the one that put the kid in the position that allowed Doza's men to abduct, torture, and almost hang him.

Although Clay seemed to establish a decent relationship with all of Bravo … which included Davis and Blackburn, but not so much Ellis, the kid remained standoffish with him. During Clay's rehab, if given a choice Clay picked any member of the team to help, eschewing him as if he had the plague. At first, he shrugged it off, hoping to give Spenser time to accept his apology, but as weeks passed and nothing changed, it began to rub him the wrong way.

Having a team member who didn't trust his leadership would cause friction on missions … and could pose issues that might end up getting someone killed. Jason just didn't know how to fix this problem, because Clay's reasoning was justified. Jason accepted he screwed up big time … he only wanted a chance to rectify his error.

Jason tuned back into Mandy who finally got intel which might let them end this cat and mouse game once and for all.

Standing at the front of the table, Mandy said, "Four hours ago, Lazo called Carla to set up an escort for tonight."

Ray leaned forward, excited to finally have something actionable. "Okay, Whose the lucky lady?"

Mandy flicked a button and showed a photo of a pretty aspiring actress as she gave them the details on Nunez.

Sonny asked, "Are we going to pick him up en route or wait til he gets to his shag pad?"

Martinez advised against picking him up, stating Doza would be alerted the moment Lazo went off the grid.

Glad to be back in operation … but still not thrilled with working with Master Chief Hayes, regardless of what all the guys told him about Hayes, Clay kept his arms crossed, as he said, "All right, so what's the plan?"

As the conversation around him continued, Clay's anxiety increased when they talked about sending someone into the club which the cartel frequented. He clenched his jaw, hoping like hell they wouldn't choose him. Although he didn't recall the assault per se, recovering from being impaled on a hook had been no easy task, and he still woke jittery and drenched in sweat, dogged by nightmares he never remembered.

His eyes shifted to Ellis when she said couples attracted less attention. Clay would never admit, but when Mandy said Hayes had a date for the night, he was relieved not to be going into La Sociale. But the animosity between Hayes and Ellis fairly filled the room. He didn't understand the source of it, but a team rife with stress before a mission never boded well for a successful outcome.

When Blackburn suggest everyone go get some rest, Clay welcomed the respite. He stood and headed out with Sonny. He had become fast friends with the weird Texan … who seemed to give him a new name every time he talked to him. He lost count on the ones used, but of all of them, Kid was the most palatable and most often used by all the guys.

* * *

_**Mexican Marine Headquarters – Bravo Hooch** _

Sitting at the table, Clay glanced up when Hayes entered the area. He went back to cleaning his weapon, hoping not to be pulled into a conversation, but Jason spoke to him anyway.

"You're supposed to be resting."

"Had more than enough rest in the last two months. I'm good." Clay concentrated on reassembling the gun. What he left out is that he didn't want to chance sleeping and waking up soaked from another nightmare before his first mission back.

Jason decided not to push it for now. Though soon he and the kid would need to have it out. If Clay couldn't trust him … as much as it pained him, Spenser might need to transfer teams. If push came to shove, he would talk to John about placing the kid with Alpha, since he trusted Full Metal and Derek to keep him safe. No way in hell would he want or allow Spenser to end up on Fuller's Charlie team. Although, with Dunn and Roberson gone from Delta and the 2IC taking over, Spencer might be a good fit with Delta too.

Nodding, Jason left without saying another word. He really didn't want to lose the kid. The rest of Bravo would be royally pissed at him if they did. He headed to his little cell to contact his kids before they went back to the planning session … Lisa, Mandy, and Rita were pulling information on the club and surrounding area now, and they would reconvene in an hour.

* * *

_**Mexico City** _ _**–** _ _**Narrow Road** _

Clay yelled, "RPG," as he slid the van door open and bailed out on the driver's side with Brock who was driving. As he went sprawling on the ground, he hoped like hell Sonny made it out the other side. He didn't have time to think as bullets began flying, but before he had been dissatisfied with Hayes' call again … the master chief was putting them all at risk to get Lazo … and led them right into an ambush.

Scrambling up, he put his hand on his right side as it twinged. Though fully healed, landing hard on his stomach he must've bruised a rib. A flash rippled in front of his eyes, and he wobbled a moment before righting himself.

"Six, you okay?" Brock yelled as he rose and noticed the kid sway.

"Yeah, you?" Clay answered.

"Yeah."

Both raced for cover as the cartel men continued to fire.

* * *

_**Inside Church** _

With Doza's men on the way, QRF too far out, low on ammo, Martinez dead, and Lazo dying, this wasn't the time or place Jason would pick, but he could no longer allow Spenser to second-guess him in the field. He continued, "Every decision I've made has always been about mission success and what's best for the team. That's it. Don't ever doubt that. Never."

When Clay only stared at him, Jason added, "Even the decision to send you out with Sonny. You were off and jammed up. I needed to find out where your head was at. This mission is different. Failure's not an option. Doza must be stopped. He is pure evil … the scar you bear is a testament to his viciousness."

Clay's hand went to his right side at the mention of the wound he suffered. A flare of pain running through his head caused him to wince and falter. A strong grip steadied him, and when he opened his lids, he found Hayes' hand on his elbow. The concern reflected in Jason's eyes confused him.

"Got it?"

Unsure if the softer statement was the completion of his set down or asking if he was alright, Clay nodded and chose to answer as if it was for the former, "Roger that."

Jason wanted to ask if Clay was okay, but he didn't believe he would get a straight answer at this point. So he nodded and said, "Good. Positions." As Clay walked towards the front, he eyed Sonny, sending a message to watch out for the kid. He worried that perhaps they allowed him to return too soon or if he had been re-injured in the RPG blast.

His attention was diverted when Lazo asked for last rights. Jason understood he needed to be a bastard as he answered, "No. Mm-mm." The padre didn't like that one bit, and Jason realized Ray would have a problem with it too, but he needed Doza's whereabouts.

This would be his best last chance to obtain the info they needed. Although he told Spenser this mission was not personal … he lied. It was personal now. Doza would pay for what he did to the kid. The entire team was aware Clay suffered nightmares … his screams alerted them almost every time the kid slept. So if he had to be a bastard, he would. Doza's reign of terror must end and justice must be served.


	11. Justice and Brotherhood

_**Hiking Through the Mangrove Jungle to Doza's Compound** _

Clay followed Ray who was on point. During the thirty-minute planning session they joked with Sonny about jaguars being the sharks of the jungle … and as they did, something jarred in his memory. He struggled to place it and gave up as they went to grab a bit of rest before moving out.

Ever since he jumped out of the van and smacked the cement, he was experiencing bursts of pain in his head, and fragments of jumpy images which made no sense. Like a movie playing … but the film had been cut into thousands of pieces and glued back together in random order with many scenes left out.

One thing good to come out of the puzzling snippets is his sense of unease with Hayes seemed to dissipate. Though jumbled, he recalled bits and pieces of times when Jason had his back. He also remembered the tears in Jason's eyes as he spoke at Alana's funeral.

As a result, he apologized to Jason for questioning his judgment in the field and was surprised when Jason told him to forget it. His master chief understood he was frustrated and when he said, 'Besides, you almost got mudsucked, you know? And that'll do that to people, trust me,' Clay nodded, comprehending they were on an even keel again. He ended that portion of the conversation saying he would keep it for the AAR next time, which steered the conversation to Stella.

Stella … he still couldn't recall much about her, but apparently, he had been blindsided and jacked-up by her breaking up with him. Enough so that he was distracted and not on point during a mission, and caused Jason to make one bad call.

An animal growl interrupted his thoughts, followed by Sonny saying, "Please tell me that growl wasn't a jaguar."

Ray quipped, "Want someone to hold your hand, Sonny?"

"What I do want is to get ahold of is my rightful place atop the food chain."

Clay winced as another pain flashed his head. He tripped on a jungle vine and down he went. Opening his eyes, he found Trent above him with a worried mien.

"Headaches getting worse?" Trent queried, having noticed the frequent grimaces on Clay's face ever since the night at the church.

"How?" Clay started, wondering how Trent knew, but stopped, "never mind." He answered the medic, "Comes and goes. Short bursts, usually coupled with some piece of memory … or something I think might be a recollection. Sometimes I'm not sure."

"Like?" Trent asked as he pulled Clay up.

"Well, Sonny's comment about the top of the food chain … did a leopard try to eat me?"

Sonny chuckled. "Yep. Three-inch-long canines took a huge bite of you in the caves, and the claws tried to rip open your jugular. That's where the scars on your arm and back of your neck came from. I crushed its skull to dig out a bit o' brain matter to test for rabies."

"What else are you recalling?" Trent passed Clay a couple of aspirins to help with the headache.

Clay downed them, and as they resumed hiking, he said, "Things that don't make sense."

"Such as?" Ray prompted, happy the kid's memory was jogged, yet also worried he might experience emotional pain once his feelings for Stella returned … if they did. The kid might be unconsciously repressing them.

"Talking to someone named Hector in a graveyard about being in a hole. Jumping off an oil platform … twice, once holding Jason. Having an arrow in my ass. Tying some guy to a toilet with neckties."

The guys all laughed and filled in Clay on the events surrounding each of his memories until Ray's fist went up and they encountered five enemies guarding the back door of Doza compound.

* * *

_**Doza's Mansion** _

"Havoc this is One. Chiapas police are readying for engagement," Jason reported as he stood by the window near Clay.

"Copy that One. Stand by." Eric responded from the C17 TOC. He had a difficult decision to make, and Mandy's statement that they hand over the HVT wasn't her call to make. This was his job, the hard decisions fell to him … so did getting Bravo out of trouble, and in this case as with all cases … the men were his primary concern. Their lives were more important than a drug dealer.

"Havoc Base to Bravo One. Turn the HVT over and lay your weapons down. We're not losing any of you," Eric ordered. Not a call he really wanted to make, but he would rather turn over Doza than lose any of his men. The Chiapas police would go in heavy, and it would be an international incident … also something Eric didn't want to happen.

"Havoc this is One. Laying down," Jason replied … internally conflicted about coming so close, yet missing again.

"Jason, come on, man." Clay couldn't believe they would just let Doza go. He itched to put a bullet between the evil bastard's eyes.

Not happy with the command, Sonny said, "Come on, Boss."

"Weapons down. Now," Jason ordered as he took off his assault rifle and lay it in a chair.

Ray had Jason's back. "You heard the man, do it." He unslung his weapon. "We're not murderers."

"Yeah, but he's murdered thousands of people a year," Sonny retorted. His mind stuck on the fact that Clay might've been one of them … him too had Bravo not arrive in time on the rooftop to save their asses.

Angry that Doza would get away again, Clay challenged, "If we stand down, how many more die?"

Pacing, Jason turned to Clay. "I'm more concerned about your blood. We almost lost you once here. I'm not going to take a chance again. I failed you before, and I refuse to make another judgment call that puts your life … all our lives in jeopardy. Take your weapon off, lay it down. Now."

"There's no justice in this." Juan Lopez raised his gun and pointed it at Doza.

After several tense moments, Juan complied with Jason's order and tossed his weapon on the chair. Ray went to cut the zip ties binding Doza's hands as Jason instructed Clay to open the door.

The gunshot jarred Clay, and he spun around in time to see Doza fall to the carpet, and Juan drop Doza's handgun next to the dead man. Clay continued to stare as the blood puddle grew around the jackal's head, and Jason grabbed Juan's vest telling him he shouldn't have done that. Pain surged in Clay's head, and he staggered back against the jamb.

Sonny crossed the room in four strides and grabbed Spenser's arm to steady him. "Easy. You need to sit?"

A flood of memories assaulted Clay all at once. Overloaded with emotions as an image of Brian with a parachute, preparing for their training jump, then watching only five canopies unfurl, peering at five faces, hoping to find Brian's among those who landed safely, and the gut-wrenching grief when he didn't see him. Another set of flashes showed Adam telling him to shake it off, then Seaver running towards the s-vest and landing a moment later, missing limbs and on fire.

Clay sucked in jagged breaths as his knees started to buckle. His hand went to his abdomen as remembered searing pain lanced through him as the hook impaled him, the jarring and jerking motions as they hoisted him up causing him to scream bloody murder, and the expression on Sonny's face as he cried out.

"Four, need you here. Six is going down," Sonny called out as he took most of Clay's weight as the kid keeled over. The Chiapas police entered at the same moment calling for them to show them their hands, but Sonny refused to let go of Spenser to comply, which brought guns into both their faces.

Luckily, they didn't shoot as they assessed the situation … one man holding another who appeared to be having some type of panic attack. As Juan and Jason talked to Comandante Salas, Ray moved to assist Sonny since Trent wouldn't be able to come to them.

Clay's eyes remained shut, his brows knitted in intense pain, his jaw clenched as one memory after another slid into place. The good, the bad, the ugly … the excruciatingly painful. A forlorn, "Stella," slipped from Clay's mouth unbidden before he passed out.

Salas turned his attention to the soldier on the ground after he moved the pistol under Doza's hand, choosing to take the path of Doza committing suicide. He wondered what was going on, but didn't ask.

Jason turned his gaze from Spenser to Salas. "We just want to go home."

Salas took one last glance at the unconscious soldier then back at the leader. "Then go home."

Nodding Jason moved towards Clay. He crouched and pulled the kid against his shoulder. "I got him." Jason lifted Clay in a fireman's carry as he stood. It was time to take their kid home.

This mission tried all their souls … and the one word from Clay indicated to Jason the kid finally recalled what Stella meant to him. Their brother would be in a world of emotional pain, but the team would not forsake him … they would be with him every step of the way to support him in any way necessary.

Ray and Sonny fell into step behind Jason and Juan followed behind them. Reaching Trent and Brock, Juan halted and allowed the other two to join their teammates. Juan would never be able to repay these men or Colonel Martinez for their sacrifices … but he would try by continuing to fight against the cartels and make his country a safer place.

* * *

_**Clay's Apartment** _

Rapping on his door woke Clay. He rubbed his crusty eyes and spied the broken glass from the photo frame he had slammed on the ground in a fit of anger. His emotions ran the gambit from high to low. He wanted to blame jetlag, but the reality was, losing Stella hurt like hell … maybe worse the second time around.

His memories continued to come to him vivid technicolor. Every little laugh, the flick of Stella's hair, and the scent of her still lingered in his place even though it had been months … so he assumed … since she was in his place.

Louder knocking followed by, "Blondezilla, if you don't open up, I'm busting down this door," caused Clay to push off the couch and stagger over to his door.

He flung the portal open and growled, "What the hell do you want?"

Taking in Clay's disheveled state, noting he looked jacked up, Sonny quipped, "I see you got your beauty sleep … does wonders for your personality too, Sunshine."

"Fuck off!" Clay turned and shuffled back to his couch … his home for the last twenty-four hours.

Stepping into the apartment, Sonny noted the shattered picture frame, and a plethora of beer cans strewn about, but what concerned him was the almost empty bottles of Jack Daniels and Jim Beam.

Sonny wasn't one to be preaching to anyone about drinking in excess, but the kid had major surgery on his intestines only a two months ago … Trent didn't want him drinking more than an occasional beer. "So you've been partying with Jim and Jack I see. How's that working out for you?"

Clay only scowled. He wasn't about to tell Sonny he puked up everything he drank.

Grabbing the back of Clay's shirt, he pushed the kid towards the bathroom. "You reek. You need a shower, now."

"Go to hell!"

"Been there … kinda hot like Texas." When Clay tried to pull away from him, Sonny increased his hold and jostled the kid all the way to the bathroom and into the shower, and before Clay could exit, Sonny turned on the tap all the way to hot.

As the residual freezing water in the line cascaded down on Clay, he struck out at Sonny … found his hit blocked and himself sitting on the floor of his shower, his t-shirt and jeans drenched.

Sonny crossed his arms. "You gonna wash or do you require assistance?"

Glaring up at Sonny, Clay tugged off his shirt and flung it at his jackass of a brother, satisfied when he heard the thwack of it hitting him.

"At least your aim ain't impaired." Sonny dropped the wet shirt in the sink and waited until Clay began removing his jeans before exiting the room, satisfied the kid would wash now that he was soaking wet.

He checked the fridge, and of course, it was empty.  _So … alcohol with alcohol and nothing to eat. The kid is not handling losing Stella well._  Sonny pulled out his phone and called Jason as he noted the steam coming from Clay's bathroom now that the water heated up.

Jason answered Sonny's call with, "How broken is he?"

"The kid looks like a strung-out junkie. Threw him in the shower … literally. He's gonna be pissed about that. Needs food and us. Trent's not gonna be pleased with his choice of beverages nor the quantity … tell him to bring his kit."

Jason sighed. "On my way. I'll call the others."

Sonny hung up and grabbed a trash bag before heading to the main room. He tossed all the beer cans and both whiskey bottles into the bag. Next, he went in search of a broom and dustpan, stopping to peek in the bathroom, noting Clay letting the water roll down his back. He swept up the shards and put the now glassless frame back on the desk where it had sat for almost a year.

When the water turned off, Sonny checked on Clay again and noted he ambled to the bedroom toweling his hair dry.

Clay dressed in comfortable sweatpants, and then pulled out a clean shirt. As he went to yank it over his head, he caught the scent of Stella. He bit his lower lip and scrunched his face.

So much in this place reminded him of her … everywhere he turned he could see her. Sitting on the couch grading papers. Standing at the sink, complaining about his choice of toothpaste, but using it anyway. Lying in his bed next to her … happy just to cuddle or enjoying a jaunty ride with her atop him.

He thought he hit the jackpot with Stella. An intelligent, fun-loving, and strong woman. He believed he could have it all, but that was only a pipe-dream. They were now as far apart as January and July … Jupiter and Mars … North and South poles. She resented his work, and his work was who he was … so she resented him.

"Decent?" Sonny called out as he came to the bedroom door.

"Like that would matter to you," Clay sniped.

Sonny chuckled.

Clay eyed him. "I assume the others are on their way."

"Yep."

"And you told Trent?"

"Nope."

Clay lifted a brow and sighed. "You told Jason, and he told Trent."

Sonny grinned. "And they say alcohol dulls the mind."

Clay shook his head, pushed past Sonny, and noted his teammate cleaned up his mess. His eyes landed on the photo of him and Stella, but he continued to the couch and plopped down.

Not long after, the rest of Bravo team showed up. Ray arrived with something Naima whipped up. Trent came with his med kit, and Clay submitted to a once-over. Brock brought Cerberus, who jumped up on the couch next to him and laid his head in Clay's lap once Trent finished his exam. Jason carried in several bags, presumably with groceries, though Clay didn't see the contents.

Several hours later, Clay nodded off again, his stomach full of healthy food, and his mind filled with jovial anecdotes as his brothers distracted him from his heartache. As much as it hurt recalling how Stella left him … he would never wish he hadn't regained his memory, because he would be missing all the good parts of being a member of Bravo team too.

The guys cleaned up, moved Clay to his bed, and then said goodbye to Sonny who would be staying the night … or several nights to ensure Clay didn't fall off the deep end again. Together they would help him through his pain because that is what brothers do for one another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed H, I, and J and my little tweaking of the episodes to intertwine this story into canon.


End file.
